


searching for a reason to come home

by itsnotcloud



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Good Mordred (Merlin), Justice for Morgana and Mordred, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merthur and Morgwen subtext, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Post-Episode: s05e05 The Disir, Tags Are Hard, Talking solves problems, The White Dragon ACTUALLY bodes well for Albion, which is eventually just text
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotcloud/pseuds/itsnotcloud
Summary: He saw something flying towards the clearing in the distance. Soon after, the dragon he considered a friend, and respected was standing in front of him.“What is it now, young warlock?” he said in his mighty voice.“You know,” Merlin laughed and started pacing, “you give really terrible advice.”AKAMerlin disappears for a few days after the events of The Disir. While Arthur searches for him, he discovers little lies told by his servant and Gaius. As Merlin decides to take a different course of action to challenge the prophecy, everything starts to unravel.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Merlin & Mordred (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 303





	1. telling me words unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> Right! Finally decided to post this here, so thank you for clicking on it! The fic is dialogue and relationship-focused for now. Will probably dwell on some action later on. I was planning to make it 3 chapters but not really sure at the moment, I kinda wanna do more. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

It was supposed to be a simple question, in fact, the simplest one he had been presented with, requiring a simple answer. The choice was supposed to be obvious. The choice where his kind would no longer live in fear, where his kind would finally be free. 

Where he would be free. 

Yet Merlin knew the consequence of that choice. The consequence that he was trying to prevent for the past nine years. Wasn't the end goal this? He had done everything to protect Arthur, so that one day, magic would be legal, hadn’t he? This was the moment he was relentlessly striving towards and at that moment, he knew that he needed to question his loyalty again since he himself wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure what mattered more. 

Merlin couldn't mask his heartache. He owed it to all others who weren't lucky enough to survive and the ones who put their faith in him. He owed it to Freya. Alator. Finna. Gilli. Kilgarrah. He owed it to his father and so many more. 

Desperately trying to hide the tears rushing into his eyes, Merlin glanced over to the king just briefly. The problem was that he wasn't just the king, was he? And Merlin was not just his servant. Although he didn't truly know the young warlock, he was his friend and no matter how hard Arthur tried to play it off as a joke, Merlin knew how much he meant to the king. _You're my only friend and I couldn't bear to lose you_. And how much Arthur meant to him. 

At the end of the day, they were each other's closest, dearest friend and though not as perceptible on the surface, there was something even stronger than that between them. _Two sides of the same coin._

So the question was, in fact, simple with even a simpler answer. The choice was obvious, more obvious than anything Merlin had been presented with. He would always choose it, over and over again. He would always choose Arthur, time after time. 

"There can be no place for magic in Camelot." 

* * *

Contrary to the popular belief, Arthur wasn’t completely oblivious. Well… Not to the people the cared about, at least. Well… Alright, sometimes he was oblivious to them too, but he had his moments. He would never say it out loud but he cared about the man sitting across from him a hell of a lot more than he led on. Besides he was never good with words to begin with, being raised by Uther Pendragon would do that to a person, yet he still found ways to display his affection whether they were masked as a playful punch or a simple question like ‘something’s bothering you, what is it?’ 

Again, despite the extremely popular idea amongst his enemies, Arthur Pendragon was an entirely different man than his father, other than a specific policy he continued to enforce. Though he was nowhere near as harsh about how the policy used to be: there were no more raids, searches, and uses of magic were persecuted only after a fair trial. Arthur had his flaws, he had made plenty of mistakes, but he was also empathetic and he tried to do the right thing whenever he was given the choice. He cared about his people and his companions, he paid attention. He wasn’t _completely_ oblivious. 

And right now, he noticed his manservant tearing up. Merlin has always been an emotional person, he thought. Arthur once saw him crying over a dying man he had only met that day. _No man is worth your tears_. He remembered advising the lanky boy who was not at all successful at being a servant. Though besides that, the boy was oddly charming and Arthur had never met a person who wouldn’t treat him with caution until Merlin came along. Before Merlin, he didn’t really have a friend. Now that he thought about it actually, the man in front of him barely resembled the snarky, cheerful boy who showed up to Camelot all those years ago. 

Somethings about him had changed. He had gained weight, obviously, upgrading his lifestyle from a farm boy to King’s personal servant did his metabolism wonders. His voice got deeper and face older, not in a bad way. No, not at all. It suited him, Arthur thought. 

It wasn’t his appearance that just changed, however. Something different had happened along the way. He wasn’t the boy full of life and enthusiasm anymore. His eyes... They were _sad_ and _hollow_. Had been for a while. Arthur couldn’t pinpoint the exact time the change started to happen, nor could he understand what had happened to him. _Maybe he_ _took Morgana’s betrayal too hard. Maybe Lancelot’s death changed him. Maybe_ _there was something else he wasn’t telling him. Maybe he had suffered loss more than he led on._ Either way, Arthur felt his sadness. He, too, had suffered from loss and betrayal. So when he saw tears forming in his servants -no, his friend's eyes, Arthur _thought_ he understood. He didn’t. 

The king straightened himself and leaned in slightly to put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“I know how hard it is to lose a friend. Mordred’s sacrifice won’t be in vain.” He reassured him with a weak yet warm smile. Little did he know that Merlin had just made the toughest choice in his life. 

* * *

_No. No. No._

_No. This can’t be happening._

When Merlin saw Mordred walking down the stairs to greet them, he felt desperate at first. He stared at them with a blank expression as Arthur hugged him. Then he felt nothing. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to think. _All for nothing._ And he felt anger. Those were the only emotions he had come to feel recently. 

Merlin smiled insincerely when Arthur and Mordred looked over to him, and after that he quickly took the horses and headed to the stables, hoping neither Arthur nor Mordred would notice his intense desire to be nowhere near them. He continued on doing chores for the rest of the day just so he had something to keep him busy, something to keep him from thinking, luckily enough Arthur never summoned him. 

He watched the training grounds, Arthur sparing with Mordred and the other knights, feeling uneasy. At some point, Gaius showed up and he told him everything that happened. 

“Mordred is Arthur’s punishment.” 

When he was done and the sun was going down, he returned to his room. Fortunately, Gaius wasn’t there, as he just wanted to be alone. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, both hands on his head. _I sealed Arthur’s fate._

_He’s going to die because of me._

_I failed._

All his emotions he was trying to keep locked away from the moment he saw Mordred overcame him. Young warlock’s eyes turned gold and he roared, tears rushing down his face. The cupboards and the window in his room swung open. The window shattered, hitting the wall. His clothes, as well as his books, pillows, and boots flew across the room at the same time. 

He placed his head on his hands and took a deep breath. He was so exhausted. Exhausted from _this destiny_ he had to fulfill, but for some God-forsaken reason, destiny didn’t seem to be on his side. It was too much for him to carry alone and it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he would still fall unto the hands of it. Everything was planned: every inch, every course of action, every decision. Merlin was trapped. He tried to cheat it today but was he too late? He wished that he would have listened to the Great Dragon and killed Mordred and Morgana before. He had to show mercy and kindness, didn’t he? Why couldn’t he have just been ruthless? If he hadn't been so indecisive and gone through with poisoning Morgana or saving her later from her head injury, he wouldn’t have been in this situation, but that wasn’t who he was, was it? Maybe he could have ignored Kilgarrah and Gaius completely, and told Morgana about his magic. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have chosen this path. Merlin blamed himself for what she had become. 

The problem was that he didn’t commit to any of these choices. He tried to please everyone. Everyone but himself. Maybe he should have listened to his heart and did what he wanted. It was too late for that now, though. His heart told him nothing now, Merlin was just a paranoid hollow shell of who he used to be. 

He fell backward unto his bed and closed his eyes, there was no point of thinking about all the things he could have done differently, he was so tired. Oh, so tired. He groaned. _I could just give up._

Yeah, he liked the sound of that. 

_I could give up_. 

With that thought, he felt a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He felt himself sink into his pillowless bed and drifted to a heavy sleep. 

* * *

Arthur was confused, to put it simply. He had guessed something wasn’t quite right with Merlin when they returned to a very much alive and healthy Mordred, yet Merlin didn’t seem to be as pleased as someone who had almost cried at the thought of the knight dying, should have been. In fact, he could have sworn Merlin looked _cold,_ if he didn’t know the man better. 

He didn’t pry any further, however. They could have that conversation later. He decided to let his servant be for the remainder of the day. Arthur would die before admitting this but seeing Merlin that shaken up the night before had an effect on him. 

He continued on his day sparing and goofing off with knights in celebration of having Mordred back, later some nobles bothering him about trade routes, and finally having a nice dinner with his wife. 

Guinevere looked stunning, as usual, especially with her mauve gown under the dim candle lights. 

“I’m so glad that Mordred is alright. Jumping in front of you like that…” Gwen’s eyes trailed off to the ground. 

“He is an incredibly brave and loyal knight. I’m also glad that The Disir decided to save him anyway.” He said as he took a sip from his wine. 

Gwen perked up to her husband’s word choice but Arthur avoided her gaze. “Anyway?” she asked. 

The king took a moment before continuing. “The Disir gave me a choice. Bring magic back to Camelot and save Mordred,” he finally met Gwen’s eyes, “or let him die.” The last part came off more like a whisper. 

She was taken aback, to say the least. Gwen was never against magic the way Uther was. She was cautious of it, for she had seen the destruction and pain it caused. She also knew that there were peaceful sorcerers, like the druids, but still, she couldn’t remember a time she had encountered a form of magic that wasn’t harmful. Nonetheless, she did despise Uther and that man had never been right about anything in his life, so she had always figured that maybe there was more to the story. 

She smiled at Arthur sincerely, seeing how troubled he looked. “I know you were just trying to do what’s right for your kingdom.” 

He nodded slightly, still scowling. “Is there something else troubling you, my love?” Guinevere shot a concerned look. 

He wasn’t sure if it was important enough to bring up Merlin since he didn’t want to alarm his wife for no reason. She had always been protective over him, as they were friends long before she was the queen. He decided she should know. 

“I’m worried about Merlin. There’s something going on with him, something upsetting him maybe- I’m not sure what.” Arthur looked up to meet Gwen’s eyes. “It’s probably not too important.” 

“Maybe you should talk to him?” Gwen offered with a kind smile. 

“I will.” 

* * *

Arthur had guessed something was wrong two days ago, but today he _knew_ something was wrong. 

Merlin had skipped work two days in a row and Arthur was already in a bad mood, having to dress himself, even before he heard the same old excuse from Gaius. 

“Where is that dollophead?!” Arthur vented as soon as he opened the door. 

Gaius simply raised an eyebrow. “He’s still gathering herbs sire-” he was cut short with a defeated sigh coming from the king. 

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” 

“Your majesty, _vervains_ are extremely rare especially this time of the year. It could take a while before he finds- ” The old physician protested but Arthur cut him off again. 

“He’s in the tavern, isn’t he?” And without waiting for an answer he left the chambers, mumbling to himself something about why Merlin disappeared every time he was most needed. 

Although Arthur was starting to get used to the fact that his servant would just sometimes _disappear_ _,_ he was supposed to deal with some important paperwork with him that day and Arthur wanted to see Merlin in his natural habitat for once. Thus, he was searching for Merlin himself, a job that could very well be made by some other servant. 

This was the first time that he came to the tavern himself to pick Merlin up but to Arthur’s dismay, he wasn’t at the Rising Sun. In fact, one of the only people there was no other than Gwaine, considering it was a few hours past midday. Obviously Arthur would rather be bitten by a wilddeoren than to admit he was wrong, _Merlin had_ _to be here_ _to at least_ _some point of the day,_ he thought to himself. So when the clearly hungover knight walked towards him, his immediate reaction was asking if Gwaine saw his useless toad of a servant. 

“Woah, princess! Take a breather, all this stress isn’t good for your royal skin.” The knight said half asleep with his signature laid-back smirk. 

Arthur sighed. “I don’t have time for this. There is too much work to be done, and no one to do it. So I’m asking again: Have you seen Merlin?” 

Gwaine leaned his back to the doorframe. “Well forgive me for asking _sire_ , but aren’t you the king? Can’t you just find another servant to do your chores?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I can’t.” he felt an urge to explain. “I need a speech written. He’s one of the few servants who know how to read and write. Despite my complaining -and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s surprisingly good at it.” 

“Alright then, if that’s the case,” Gwaine chippered while Arthur looked at him expectantly, only to be let down by his following words, “I haven’t seen him.” 

Arthur wasn’t sure what was more annoying: Gwaine’s smug smile or the fact that he had encountered a dead end in his quest to find Merlin. He sighed again. 

The knight stopped in his tracks just before heading out of the tavern. “Why did you think he was here in the first place?” He looked at Arthur with confusion, who was scowling to nowhere in particular, hands on his hips. 

“What do you mean ‘why did I think he was here’? He’s always here!” 

Gwaine raised both of his eyebrows in surprise. “No, I’m pretty sure he’s not? I mean, of all people, _I_ would know if _Merlin_ was a regular customer here. ” He met Arthur’s puzzled eyes. “ I am the one who’s always here.” He stopped for a second after saying that and recalled this memory. “Huh. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Merlin here. That’s a shame! I should drag him here the next time I see the poor man.” Gwaine laughed. “I’m sure he needs to relax, I can’t imagine what it’s like to be your servant, no offense. I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy.” 

Arthur turned his head away suddenly, and then turned it back to Gwaine, he opened his mouth like he was going to say something but changed his mind. He quickly left without another word, with the most confused look on his face and a dash of anger. Well, mostly confusion. _Alright_ _, he may be actually gathering herbs today but why_ _would Gaius lie_ _about all those times he_ _told me Merlin_ _was in the tavern?_

“Goodbye to you as well, my lord!” Gwaine shouted behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title is from the song Secrets by Jacob Lee


	2. fresh out of an icky, gooey womb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is just me trying to make sense of the prophecy and also feral Merlin.  
> Also, I think I kept spelling Kilgharrah's name wrong, but this is a Lizard-Hate-Club, so it doesn't matter lol.

After his, honestly quite understandable, breakdown; Merlin felt the need to unwind. The image of his completely trashed room was more than enough to convince him. He took some food and water, passed by a concerned looking Gaius who took a quick glance at the young man’s room. Merlin smiled innocently which meant _I’ll clean it up later_ , to which the physician gave him a weary reply. 

“What shall I tell Arthur, if he were to ask?” 

Merlin grabbed the apple on the table and took a bite. “I couldn’t care less.” He continued while he was still chewing his food. “Don’t worry about me, for the first time ever I’m not going to be doing anything dangerous. I’ll be in the woods west of Camelot.” With a final reassuring smile, he left Gaius to his work. 

That was two days ago. 

The first day Merlin spent in the woods was uneventful. _Perfect._ He wouldn’t want it any other way. All he did the first day was lay on his back, meditate, look at some flowers, climb a tree because he saw a cool looking bird, only for the said bird to fly away the minute Merlin got close to it, look at some more flowers, and lay but this time face down. Merlin found it peaceful, to be alone with no possessions whatsoever, aimlessly walking around and listening to nature. Trees, rivers, and everything there; they all had stories and songs. The harmony formed when they came together was soothing. With every breath he took, he felt as he was connecting to himself, a less drained version of himself that he had lost some time ago. 

As the sun set slowly, painting the sky and the river he was staring at in a warm color, Merlin was able to think and see clearly for the first time in years. The decisions he made so far only seemed to doom his, Camelot’s, but more importantly, Arthur’s fate. The advice he took from people he trusted made things worse, it looked like. Had he have been in this situation if he simply listened to his heart and did what _he_ wanted to do? If he had acted the way Hunith taught him to? 

He thought of Morgana. Doing that left a bitter taste in his mouth, mainly made of regret and remorse, almost every time. _She was always kind and just_ , Arthur’s voice echoed in his mind, and he was right. She was. _Don’t think I don’t understand loyalty just because I’ve got no one left to be loyal to._ Merlin was to blame for the path she took, granted it’s what he was advised to do but nonetheless he didn’t have to follow through with it. Was he just putting Mordred in the same path? 

He felt anger in his bones when he remembered Mordred. Not because of the prophecy or the fact that he was destined to kill Arthur. The reason why he was angry was not because of Mordred as a person. He was full of rage solely because of the fact that he didn’t die. Ever since he met Mordred all those years ago, the one thing the Great Dragon kept telling him was to kill the boy, something Merlin never wanted to do until just a few days ago. That was it. There wasn’t a single reason why _that_ _time_ Merlin wasn’t successful. 

_Unless…_ _He wasn’t meant to die._ _Unless no matter how hard_ _I tried, neither Mordred nor Morgana could die_ _until the destiny played out_ _. Unless_ _even the act of trying to do so would push them to_ _fulfill_ _their part in the prophecy. Unless_ _Kilgarrah lied to_ _me_ _._

He waited patiently for the sun to set completely and as soon as it did, the rushed to the giant field he and the dragon would occasionally meet. 

“O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd’hup’anankes!” he roared. 

He saw something flying towards the clearing in the distance. Soon after, the dragon he considered a friend and he respected was standing in front of him. 

“What is it now, young warlock?” he said in his mighty voice. 

“You know,” Merlin laughed and he started pacing, “you give really terrible advice.” 

The dragon tilted his head as if he was offended at the accusation. 

“I had to do something today that I was sure would kill Mordred,” Merlin explained, hands on his hips, “guess what happened?” he had an eerie grin on his face, which seemed to disturb the dragon as well. 

Merlin waved his hands and arms frantically. “He didn’t die!” 

Kilgarrah remained silent. “But I guess that doesn’t surprise you, does it? Because the only logical explanation I can come up with at this point was that you,” he shook his head in disbelief, “you lied to me.” 

“I wouldn’t do that Merlin.” The dragon immediately spoke after, he almost was genuine in his answer, which only made the young man angrier. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t!?” he yelled, “do you care to explain then, why -why the hell you would advise me to do things that are impossible!? Things that only make everything so much worse!?” 

“I only advise you to do what I believe is right in my experience in thousands of years of lifetime, young warlock,” Kilgarrah spoke in a tone that startled Merlin a little. “As for the impossibility of the task,” he looked sorrowful, “I admit that I may have masked the whole truth about your destiny, and for that I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t bring back what’s no longer there.” Merlin interrupted. “What I don’t understand is why you would do that!? What could you possibly gain from Arthur’s death!?” 

“I do not have anything to gain.” Kilgarrah sighed. “There are some things that have to come to pass no matter what, Merlin. The future is not set in stone, however. So you needed to be the one to make that happen.” 

Merlin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re saying that you manipulated me into making Arthur’s death come true?” He took a few steps backward. “I trusted you! I… I don’t want…” he took a deep breath. “I could have prevented all of this if I had shown Morgana the kindness she needed! Instead, I tried to poison her, I was her friend!” Merlin shouted. “I won’t be doing the same mistakes with Mordred.” 

“The boy is dangerous Merlin, and so was the witch. Arthur’s death has been foretold for longer than you can imagine, by their hands, it is obligated to be that way. Always has been.” Kilgarrah roared in the last attempt, “Head my words-” 

“No.” Merlin interrupted the dragon again with a shout, then he continued much more calmly. “No, I don’t think I will.” 

“Then you shall face the consequences.” His tone was threatening. 

“More than I already have?” Merlin scoffed and smiled with resentment. “Sometimes you’ve got to do what you think is right and damn the consequences.” He repeated the words, he once heard Morgana spoke. 

Merlin turned his back and went into the woods leaving the dragon behind. Kilgarrah flew away after he spoke his last words. “As you sow, so shall you reap young warlock.” 

_Kilgarrah this, Gaius that, destiny this. To hell with it._

* * *

He woke up the next day, still in the woods, half expecting Kilgarrah to burn him in his sleep after their conversation. 

_It went as well as I expected._

The second day went similar to the first one, minus the thinking. His anxiety and lack of confidence in his choice was mainly the reason he didn’t return to Camelot immediately, even though he had made up his mind, he still wasn’t sure about what exactly he was going to do or whether whatever he was going to do was going to work in the first place. One could say that he wasn’t confident if he had made the right choice after all a dragon who had lived for thousands of years could in fact have more authority on these topics about destiny or whatever. Maybe he screwed up so much in the past, it was too late to go back? The Disir had said that Arthur’s fate was sealed, hadn’t they? 

Nevertheless, he decided to spend one more day. He didn’t venture far from Camelot, he obviously didn’t actually mean it when he thought he could give up two nights ago. He couldn’t ever leave this place and the people he loved behind, even if he had changed that part would still be with him. He loved each of them too much to ever give up. He loved Arthur too much to ever let him die. 

As he didn’t travel far, any knight on a patrol or any noble going for a ride could find him with little effort. He preferred it that way, and so he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he heard someone approaching. 

Merlin was laying down under the trees as the afternoon sun was hitting his face through the branches and leaves when a gentle voice called out to him. He opened his eyes and sheepishly smiled to the woman tying her horse to a nearby branch, who gave him a familiar smile in return. 

“Why is it that,” she laughed, “this being what you do in your spare time not surprising at all?” 

Merlin didn’t respond to her and closed his eyes again, still with the same smile on his face. 

Guinevere laid down next to him. “What _are_ you doing anyway?” 

“I could explain,” he sighed, “but no one can really understand.” 

“Try me,” Gwen said softly. “I want to understand.” 

Merlin looked at his friend. She had been there for him through thick and thin. If there were someone who could understand, it was her. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to get her involved in this mess he created. “Well, I like being in nature. It’s just calming and I feel like I belong, you know?” he blurted out. 

Upon those words, Gwen looked up and then around her as she took a deep breath, she closed her eyes. They spent a few minutes in silence. 

“You’re right actually, it’s serene.” After a brief pause, she continued. “But that’s not all is it?” 

Merlin remained silent, staring off to a distance sorrowful. 

“Arthur was worried about you.” 

“Did he send you?” 

“No. I was worried as well,” she sat up, “as was Gaius. It was quite easy to get him to tell me where you were after playing the ‘concerned parent’ card.” She chuckled and bit her lip. “Now, will you tell me about it?” 

Merlin sat up, a few minutes past while he watched the nature surrounding them, trying to figure out what he was going to say. He finally turned his head at her, avoiding her gaze. “There’s a story, old as time, tragic as can be.” He started to talk, choosing his words carefully. Gwen raised her eyebrows, listening intently. “There once was a young man who was leading a simple enough life. One day he met an old man who was wise, who spoke from a place of knowledge and experience. He told him about a destiny that the young man was supposed to fulfill. The young man was thrilled by the news, as he always felt as if there was something missing from his life as if he was part of something bigger. And he believed the old man, trusted him.” Merlin swallowed, still staring off to a distance. “The old man told about the two paths of his destiny, one where he succeeds and there is peace and prosperity. The other one where he fails and catastrophe follows.” 

“But the young man soon figured out that this destiny wasn’t going to be easy to fulfill, in fact, the road was flooded with obstacles, challenges, and tragedies. As the young man took a step towards preventing misfortunes, destiny seemed to shape itself in a way that would make his attempts futile. He went to the old man and followed his advice. He did everything but what he wanted to do. He tried time and time again but the destiny that was supposed to be _his_ kept turning against him. The man couldn’t understand and what was worse, the young man realized after it was too late, that the harder he tried to prevent the terrible path, his actions were causing it. 

“So, it seemed that this destiny the wise old man was talking about wasn’t entirely true and when he discovered this, the path with peace and prosperity wasn’t an option anymore like he was led to believe. The young man was manipulated into turning the other man’s wills to reality as he never followed his own heart. The old man’s advice and his own lack of confidence in his actions caused him and people he loved pain and suffering.” Tears started to rush his eyes, so he asked Guinevere quietly. “What would you even tell a man who condemned himself?” 

She thought for a minute to process the story and put one of her hands on his, the other on her friend’s face. “It’s always the harder choice to do what oneself desires, because sometimes he may fear the repercussions too much. He may fear to fail. It’s okay to be afraid. Kind-hearted people are often tricked more easily. And they blame themselves harder than most when they shouldn’t.” She adjusted his neckerchief. “I would tell him that it’s never too late for anything. Especially never too late to listen to his heart.” 

“I’m sure he would appreciate that greatly.” Merlin laughed and finally looked at her. 

Gwen laughed as well. “I’m happy to be able to help him.” 

After that Guinevere left Merlin by himself and headed for the castle. She didn’t know what exactly Merlin was talking about but that didn’t matter to her. What mattered to her was being there for her friend when he needed it. 

After Gwen left, Merlin felt the hope which was so foreign to him just a day ago. On his skin. In his bones. 

Before ending his getaway, he remembered to collect some herbs Gaius was running short on, and as the sky began to turn into a calming orange color, young warlock trailed towards Camelot with one thought in his mind. 

_I’m a dead servant, aren’t I?_

* * *

“MERLIN!” 

_Fuck._

Merlin was caught in the castle square. 

“Arthur!” replied the servant in _that_ _I’m-definitely-not-about-to-lie_ _tone_ , you know which one. 

“I love how you’re grinning stupidly like that without realizing how much trouble you’re actually in.” 

Merlin’s said grin vanished from his face immediately and stared at him in a way which meant: _I love how much of a clueless oaf you are._ But of course, Arthur didn’t know that, so he just grabbed Merlin by his red neckerchief after giving him an exaggerated version of Merlin’s ‘stupid grin’ and scurried him inside. 

“Remembered that diplomatic convoy arriving tomorrow morning? I hope you slept well because you’re not getting any today!” 


	3. break the pattern, break the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the format is a little off, I'm trying to get used to the site :(

“Bog man!” exclaimed the knight, quite excited to see his lanky, alarmingly tired-looking friend. 

“Good morning Gwaine.” He said politely, even though he would much rather be left alone. Arthur had made him work double his usual time, which Merlin had already considered to be too much, for preparations for the convoy. He was sure he would have outshined every single murder attempt made on the King and choked him himself with ink if Arthur had made him rewrite the speech for the 17th time. Luckily, he was satisfied with the 16th version, and Merlin wasn’t executed for treason. 

After the convoy, however, Merlin’s problems didn’t end, as one would expect. As if loading his servant with work after work wasn’t enough, Arthur seemed _uncharacteristically_ chatty. Things like asking him about his hobbies or when he last visited his village. The very first thing Arthur said to him outside of ordering him around was, 

“You don’t seem to be as gloomy as you were. I’m glad.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Merlin _was_ in fact not as sorrowful as he used to be. After his talk with Kilgarrah and Gwen, he was a little more hopeful but the problem was that Arthur realized he wasn’t anymore because he hadn’t changed his behavior. It was the same old Merlin, stressed out of his mind, for all Arthur should have been concerned about. And then Merlin made the perilous mistake of asking how he knew. 

“Your eyes.” 

_Great, now he pays attention to my eyes? That’s excellent news._ Unfortunately, the king left immediately after that, denying Merlin the chance for further explanation, and the topic was never brought up again. Arthur’s sudden prying into Merlin’s personal life had to have a reason and it also had to stop. Too many questions and one slip up, everything Merlin worked so hard for could come to an end. He could lose the chance to bring magic back to Camelot, and worst of all, he could lose Arthur. Luckily for Merlin, the snooping on Arthur’s side started to die down after a few days or so, for reasons unknown to him. Which brought us to right now, to a random castle corridor with Sir Please-Pay-Attention-To-Me and his friend All-I-Want-Is-People-To-Leave-Me-Alone. 

“You look really tired.” He put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “And I have a great idea that will make you forget the reasons why you are!” 

“Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.” He knew exactly what the knight meant. 

“Why would you be shy about it now Merlin? After all, from what heard from Arthur, you spend all of your time in the tavern!” Gwaine said with raised eyebrows. 

Merlin perked up to those words, with a slight panic starting to set in. “Did you, by any chance, vouch for me?” 

Gwaine lowered his voice. “Listen, you know I would lie for you in a heartbeat but you have to let me know about it first.” He said, with guilt in his voice. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry Merlin.” 

“No, no. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He reassured the knight and basically was forced to promise to come to the tavern that night because, well it was Gwaine, he was persistent. 

And so he finally had an answer to why Arthur was suddenly too keen on learning about his personal life, he had discovered one of many lies Merlin had told. _It’s fine, I can handle him. It’s fine, I’m not worried, why would I be?_ _Yes, no problem. No problem at all._

* * *

Merlin wasn’t an alcohol kind of person. Mainly because his body wasn’t tolerant of it and he had this, you know, secret he had to keep hidden, and unfortunately for him, intoxication and secrets didn’t go very well with each other. Gwaine, however, wasn’t a man who would take no as an answer, so here they were. In Rising Sun. With the Knight’s of the Roundtable. And King Arthur. 

They started their night off by playing a dice game, which Merlin was effortlessly beating the king in. By cheating with magic of course, but that’s beside the point. The game went on until the tension between them couldn’t get more awkward for poor Percival and a frustrated Arthur accusing Merlin of coughing to distract him, only for Merlin to charm the crowd, including Arthur, with his sarcasm. 

Later in the night, as everyone in the tavern were either too wasted to walk or too wasted to make sense, Merlin and Arthur were sat together laughing at Gwaine and Percival trying to balance glasses of ale on top of their heads while having an imaginary duel, Elyan taking bets, Leon trying to prevent the chaotic mess they were causing, and Mordred trying to prevent Leon from stopping the chaotic mess in progress. Everyone was having a pretty good time, to which Arthur, for some reason -which was probably alcohol, decided that it was the perfect time to have _the_ _talk_ with Merlin and ruin his night of fun. 

“Alright, all the horseplay aside,” he took a large sip from his glass, “what were you doing all those times you were allegedly at the tavern?” 

It was actually quite impressive, especially to Merlin, that Arthur could form that long of a sentence considering the amount of ale he had consumed prior to starting the conversation that Merlin was dreading. Now, the thing to keep in mind was Merlin wasn’t as intoxicated as the blonde man sitting in front of him, yet the thing he said next was only possible thanks to a little liquid courage. 

“I talk to dragons.” His face was a lot smugger than it should have been, Merlin found it amusing actually. He also figured that when it was time to let Arthur know about his secret it would be easier, for both him and Arthur, to start the story off with his father, and the fact that he was a Dragonlord. The story, however, wasn’t going to start off anytime soon because his reaction terrified Merlin more than anything imaginable. 

Arthur didn’t even pause or consider the possibility for one second. “Haha. Very funny. Keep trying to be mysterious.” They both kept watching the shenanigans taking place at the tavern. 

“How hard can it be to carry Percival!?” an exasperated sigh from Sir Leon followed that sentence. Mordred and Elyan seemed to be enjoying Leon’s suffering more than the actual ruckus. 

Merlin took a quick glance at Arthur, his answer seemed to have upset him. “Why do you care so much about what I do in my free time?” 

Arthur downed the rest of his drink and ordered another one. “Well, firstly because it’s not actually your free time in most instances. Secondly,” he stopped in his tracks with a scowl in his face like he was questioning this just now for the first time, “it seems to be something you have to lie about, which is frankly alarming Merlin.” 

Now, these words have seemed to upset Merlin in return, he turned to Arthur in distress. “You don’t trust me?” How offended he was could be seen crystal clear. 

Arthur also caught that, which prompted him to look at him in bewilderment and immediately follow it up with a panicked, yet endearing explanation. “No! No, you clotpole! That’s not what I meant! How can you even think that when you’re the –” Arthur realized how heated he got and stopped himself. “You’re the one person I trust the most. More than anyone.” 

Merlin was in awe at first, he didn’t know Arthur trusted him _that_ much, then they looked at each other intensely, as if they understood one another better than anyone else in the world could. 

“What did you mean then?” Merlin said softly, breaking the silence. 

Without a single moment of hesitation, a rather sad reply came. “I find it alarming that, _you_ don’t trust me enough to tell me.” They both looked away instinctively. Arthur downed his drinking again, to which Merlin was impressed yet concerned and decided to finally speak. 

“I trust you, Arthur. It’s just that… It’s complicated.” 

Arthur had thought about many possibilities, none of which made actual sense to him. Now Merlin was saying it was complicated, yet that only made the clueless King more confused. 

“I don’t understand you, ” blurted out the king after many minutes passed, “I mean, I always think I finally figured you out, but then you go and do or say something that just completely throws me off.” 

Merlin kindly smiled to him and said in an ever so slightly cocky tone. “What _are_ you trying to figure out about me?” It was apparent that all that ale was now starting to show it’s full effect. 

Arthur rested his head on his arms, looking innocently up to Merlin like he was somehow going to find out every single detail about him just by studying his eyes. “I don’t know. Hmm.” He looked down on the table and smiled, but it wasn’t a happy one, he seemed heartbroken. “I don’t know a lot of things.” The way he said it was almost childlike. 

Merlin copied his posture, putting his head on the table and attentively watched Arthur as he continued. 

“I don’t know why everyone betrays me.” That sentence broke something in Merlin. He knew how much Morgana’s, Agravaine’s, even Gwen and Lancelot’s betrayals hurt him. 

“I don’t know why so many want me dead.” 

“Well, your father did a lot of folk wrong.” Arthur looked at Merlin after his words. “Maybe they just can’t see past that.” 

“I know. Is it bad that I still loved him?” 

“No, not really. It is hard finding out that the people you once respected were not deserving of it. It’s hard to accept that, ” His words were from experience, “but that’s what shapes you, keeps you from repeating their mistakes. Uther’s mistake was he would rather be feared than loved.” 

“You really are wise, aren’t you?” An affectionate smile came from the King. 

“I have my moments.” Merlin continued upon realizing Arthur was still in disbelief, “and what matters is that you’re a better man than your father.” 

Merlin copied Arthur again after he sat up straight and stared off to a distance sadly. “I’m not so sure sometimes Merlin. My sister once said that too. Guess she didn’t really believe it either.” 

Morgana was a touchy subject for both men, yet Merlin was still looking at him with determination as he leaned in and put his hand on Arthur's arm. “Listen, Arthur,” He met his eyes, “You are the best thing that has ever happened to Camelot, like a light shining on the darkness Uther created and the things you are yet to be destined to do, haven’t even begun.” He continued after a brief pause, “and I know that there are things I don’t tell you but you should know one thing. No matter what happens, no matter what the future holds, I will always be at your side. Because I believe in you, always have. Nothing can ever change that. I will stand by you, until the day I die.” 

Arthur didn’t even hesitate one second to believe him. They looked at each other for maybe seconds but that moment felt like it existed outside of time to them. And Arthur realized that he was never going to fathom Merlin out, but at the end of the day, he also realized that he didn’t need to. He already had figured him out in a way that held significance, which was that Merlin had his back and the bond they had was stronger than anything anyone could throw at them. 

“Thank you, Merlin.” He said simply with a warm smile that Merlin returned. 

“So, why don’t you ever wear the purple shirt I gave you anymore?” 

Merlin burst out laughing. “You’re not going to like the answer sire.” 

* * *

“Ouch! My arm –for God’s sake, Merlin!” the King cried out. 

“Oh, sorry! Sorry…” 

All the banter and ale, combined with Elyan and Gwaine’s absolutely terrible duet almost made Merlin forgot he was the King’s servant after all and as the King’s servant, his duty at the moment was putting Arthur to bed safe and soundly. One thing they both overlooked was, however, that Merlin was also having trouble walking properly much like his King, hence bumping into corners and _vases? Since when is there a vase there!?_ Merlin thought, pulling Arthur, who now was in a verbal fight against the vase and somehow losing. 

Miraculously, they found their way to Arthur’s chambers and Arthur practically threw himself to his bed. 

“Right, sire. If you are alright, I shall be leaving now.” Merlin said, waiting for an answer but receiving not a single sound. 

“Right. Good night Arthur.” He said before giving Arthur one last look, he looked peaceful. Then a hand grabbing his wrist gently, stopped him in his tracks. 

“Stay.” As Arthur said quietly, Merlin crossed his eyebrows and looked at him, puzzled. He never saw Arthur like _this_ before. This Arthur didn’t have emotional walls. So Merlin smirked and Arthur continued. 

“I wanted to ask you something else.” He sat up and patted the bed, inviting Merlin to sit. 

“What do you… What do you think of Mordred?” Arthur said narrowing his eyes. 

“This is the second time you’ve asked me this sire. And my opinion is still the same. I think he’s a fine, noble knight,” then he added, “He’s a good kid.” Merlin didn’t know where this conversation was going but he sure as hell didn’t like it already. 

Arthur looked into Merlin’s eyes again, just like he had before that night, trying to find figments, no matter how small, to understand. “He’s a good kid part is new.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes, it is. Tell me, Merlin, would you have said the same thing about Mordred a week before?” His gaze continued. 

There was something about this Arthur that made it impossible for Merlin to lie, if he were to ask anything at that moment, the warlock would answer it honestly, no matter the question. 

“No.” 

“I thought so. Why?” 

It was impossible to lie, but relatively easier to stay quiet. Arthur let go of Merlin’s wrist and asked one question that the young warlock was _not_ anticipating. 

“Did you really mean it when you said that there was no place for magic in Camelot? Or did you just want Mordred to die?” 

He didn’t reply to that either, which was an answer on its own, but Arthur’s expression didn’t change as he was still looking softly at him. 

“Do you still want him you die?” 

“No.” Merlin said in a heartbeat, firmly. 

“Good. Because I too think he’s a good kid.” He looked away. “Do you know why I sometimes think that I’m not a better man than my father?” 

Silence. 

“Even after the druid boy possessing Elyan, even after that I still enforce my father’s laws. I’m constantly in the middle of this –this war inside my mind. I see the boy, in my dreams, repeatedly. I think, what if it’s not evil? That boy couldn’t be… Evil. He wasn’t.” Arthur’s ramblings seemed like he was trying to convince himself by confiding in his servant. 

“Yet,” he took a breath, “Magic took both of my parents and it has only caused destruction in _my_ kingdom. Honestly Merlin, I don’t think I have ever met a good-hearted sorcerer face-to-face –” 

“Good sorcerers are usually hiding their true selves.” Merlin interrupted, not making eye contact. “I mean –that makes sense. I, uh, I figured.” He suddenly had this urge to punch himself in the face. 

Arthur looked at him with curiosity and scowled. “Why do you think they would they hide?” His expression shifted this time, to a more serious one. 

Merlin inhaled. _Here goes nothing._ He looked at Arthur with fierce determination that even surprised the King. “Why would they hide?” he repeated, mockingly. “ They are scared, Arthur. Sure, you don’t execute them immediately but that doesn’t mean there aren’t repercussions. Twenty years of history filled with _genocide_ _?_ They have been hunted, killed, slaughtered even if they haven’t done anything wrong . They have been treated and regarded as monsters for decades , at this point they probably believe that they _are_ monsters. All because a man with fragile pride couldn’t hold himself responsible for his own faults.” 

Silence. 

Arthur was looking at Merlin in awe during his whole speech up until the last part, then his heart started racing and he looked away for maybe minute but to Merlin it felt like an hour, waiting in terror for a reaction, he would settle for anything at that point. 

“His own faults?” the King finally asked but Merlin felt it in his bones that the man sitting next to him didn’t want to hear the answer to that. 

Silence. 

“You’re saying that… Morgause was… Telling truth? The woman I saw was my mother?” He was going through so many emotions at once, he didn’t even know where to begin. 

“Not the entire truth,” Merlin hesitated, “You were born of magic.” They locked eyes as he said that. “But Uther didn’t know the cost would be your mother. I stopped you that day because I couldn’t make you see reason. And I knew you would never forgive yourself if you had killed your father that day.” 

Arthur didn’t know what to think. He felt betrayed and also angry because of Merlin’s lie but what he was saying was right. He would have never forgiven himself if he had gone through with it. Even at a time like that, Merlin was still thinking about him, trying to protect him even from himself. Nevertheless, Arthur thought that Merlin didn’t have the right to do that and he didn’t even know _what_ to say as his servant looked at him with anticipation. He had so, so many questions but every time he tried to bring Merlin’s walls down, he was left with more questions than answers. He wanted one thing only that moment. To be alone. A good night's rest, like that was even possible. 

“Leave me, please.” He said quietly. 

Merlin was feeling every single shade of regret, thinking he had ruined everything, thinking Arthur would never look at him the same way. As he walked away from the King, he wished that he could take everything back, until he heard the words he could only dream of. 

“I don’t believe they are monsters.” 


	4. throw your pedestal of stone in the forgetful sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, it is time for Uther the get the recognition he deserves for how much he screwed up his kids. Let’s give credit where credit is due, shall we?

“Aithusa!” 

“AITHUSA!” cried out the witch, desperately running in the woods but the dragon, her companion, was nowhere to be found. She had forgotten how many days had passed after Aithusa’s disappearance. The only thing left for Morgana, the only thing that would remind her that she wasn’t alone, that she was still _someone_ and she was still worth something, her only remaining friend. Gone. 

She collapsed on the ground, crying and screaming. Over the years, feelings of bitterness and hatred crawled inside and consumed what seemed to be every last bit of her. Uther’s venom had spread through every single vein she had, it was as if there wasn’t a single drop of blood left pure. Her resentment towards him was so grave that even his death wasn’t enough to satisfy her in the end. Her delusions took over and without a realization, she projected the seemingly never-ending remnants of her hatred to his son, a man she once loved dearly, and his son’s wife, the woman who once she’d risk anything thing for. 

She thought that once they all would die, her kind would finally be rid of the disease withholding their freedom, she would finally be content, be at peace, as that was all she ever wanted. To fill the hollowness in her heart. The very same heart that once beat for people who couldn’t make their voices heard. Now, devoid. 

Despite her efforts, more death would not bring what she so desperately craved because as much as she kept telling herself otherwise, this war of hers wasn’t about the cause anymore. The truth was that she had lost her purpose long ago, the reason why she took this path was buried deep under a cold stone, untouched for years. She had suffered and lost not only everyone around her but also herself. And deep down, she thought she deserved it. Uther's actions had made her believe that she wasn’t worthy of any other path, and what was worse was she didn’t have anyone to convince her otherwise. She had nothing. No one. The only thing that would remind her what loving ever felt like was now gone. _What being loved felt like._ Uther’s poison hadn’t only made her hate everyone she once cared so much for. He made her loathe herself. 

That, she didn’t know what to do with, so she kept shrieking and crying, and crying. 

* * *

Running off to the wilderness after being faced with uncomfortable situations was starting to become a weekly habit for Merlin. He was currently on a personal mission to avoid Arthur, so he decided to go to where he felt safe the most. The most uneventful place of all. So you can imagine his surprise when he saw the white dragon peaking her head at him behind a rock. What he also did not expect was being toppled by her as soon they made eye contact. Yes, dragons were heavy, even young ones. 

After a more formal greeting that didn’t involve him hurting his back, he was back on his two feet asking questions. “What are you doing here? Were you searching for me? How long have you been here?” were some of the first ones he asked, obviously not getting any proper answers other than various sounds. Then he was hit in the face with a wave of remorse. Aithusa was in this world thanks to him, she was Merlin’s responsibility. 

“Sorry for not being around more. I should have taken care of you.” The warlock said apologetically. “I promise I will, from now on.” 

Aithusa chippered as if she was trying to say that she forgave him. 

“What were you doing with Morgana?” He said in a playful tone but the young dragon was distracted by a bird she soon started to follow as she did some sort of a sound which Merlin believed to be a _giggle?_

Aithusa attempted to breathe a weak fire to the bird to which Merlin chased after her in panic. “No, no, no– Aithusa, we don’t breathe fire on birds. Or any other living thing. Or anything in general.” The dragon’s tail dropped between her legs, like a kid being scolded by her parents. “Unless they are attacking us, alright?” She did the giggle sound again, regaining her energy. 

“Was Morgana keeping you against your will?” 

Aithusa growled in rebuttal. “Right! She was not.” He raised his hands up in surrender, amused by that Aithusa spun around. 

“Now, why can’t you talk?” he sat on his knees and muttered to himself while petting the dragons head, “When do dragons start talking? What do you even eat? Where would you even _stay?”_ Merlin said overwhelmed and looked around in desperation, realizing he had no idea how to take care of a dragon. He’d always imagined that it would come to him naturally. Tears rushed his eyes as he wished his father was alive to teach him. Noticing the man's sadness, Aithusa nuzzled him. 

“Alright, I will admit,” he sniffled, “that is really adorable.” 

Nevertheless, he needed research and maybe even some help. So he instructed Aithusa to be careful and told her that he would be back tomorrow. Aithusa chippered again and flew off to a river nearby and started playing in it. 

* * *

It was as if both men silently agreed to not bring up that night and their conversation for a while. Merlin spent most of his time avoiding Arthur, allowing him to process everything and the job was fairly easy since Arthur was already busy setting up terms for the treaty in the middle of making. While he was attending council meeting after council meeting, Merlin was mostly spending his time helping Gaius and researching in the library about dragons while occasionally checking up on Aithusa. There was only one being that would, without a doubt, know about dragons, but that being was as good as dead to Merlin. Wasn’t he also supposed to take care of the young dragon anyway? You’d think he would be more interested in watching over the last remaining member of his kind. 

He kept thinking about that night and wondered in fear whether if Arthur figured out he had magic after his speech. The thought that he knew Arthur inside out was quite on point, for the most part. The one thing he didn’t know, however, was how the man he cared so much for would react to his eyes glowing gold. Stopping all his anxieties eating him alive, he decided not to dwell on it, which ended up being a decent idea. He slowly tried to acquire this new habit of dealing with stuff as they came along. Like how he stopped worrying about what Morgana’s next move would be. Thinking too much of the future always got him in more troubles then he bargained for. 

Besides, he already had other things to think about. Take care of Aithusa, somehow. He wanted to talk to Mordred, they had so many things to discuss, and he genuinely wanted to be his friend. As hard as it was to admit it, after Lancelot’s death he had started to feel lonely, he didn’t have anyone to talk to about his magic anymore. Gaius didn’t count, he didn’t really get it but Mordred was right there and he understood perfectly. He also wanted to visit his mother, he hadn’t seen her for so long because he could never find a proper time ever since the return of Morgana. He laughed at himself when he realized what he was fretting over. Those were absolutely the most unimportant problems he had in years. 

As for Arthur, he was angry at Merlin. Which didn’t really last more than a few days. It was _Merlin_ . Yes, Arthur believed that he didn’t have the right to hide the truth from him about something _this_ big but also understood his reasons. His heart was in the right place and that was all that mattered in the end . Soon after , his coldness that Merlin missed out on experiencing vanished and it was business as usual. He did not , however, put two and two together and come to the conclusion that his servant was a sorcerer. He had woefully misread the true meaning between the lines, coming to the verdict that Merlin had sorcerer friends and that he probably always had, like Will . He also figured that Merlin’s disappearances were most likely related to that , whatever _that_ was. 

Arthur’s mind was also preoccupied with the news that he was born of magic. His respect for his father had already cracked after his spirit attempted to take Guinevere and Merlin’s life, even before he knew that he lied to his face and betrayed him. _Hypocrite_ , he thought . _Punishing a whole community_ _for your own fault?_ He wished he could speak to the spirit of his father now, as there were so many unspoken words between them. All of his father’s faults and wrong-doings were flooding his mind, as if a fog had been lifted. He started to see clearly what Merlin meant by ‘the darkness Uther created’. 

All this time he spent trying to please him, thinking he was a disappointment, yet it turned out that Arthur was the one who was supposed to be disappointed by the great Uther Pendragon. 

So, when Arthur said that he didn’t believe sorcerers were monsters, he meant it. He now understood that they were merely people who had suffered from the hands of a cruel tyrant, some who only wanted justice and freedom for their kind, but there were others consumed by revenge and bloodlust only, who wouldn’t stop until the Pendragon dynasty came to an end. Were they beyond reasoning, blinded by vengeance? Had the blood on his father’s hands overflown to his own? If he were to repeal the ban, what would happen to the safety of his people? Before, they never bothered to draw a line between the innocent civilians in his kingdom, and their hatred towards what Camelot stood for. The responsibility he had towards his people and kingdom came first. His mind was more conflicted then ever, but at the same time, Arthur wondered what he would have done if he were in their position. Then had the unsettling thought that if _this_ was how he was feeling, he couldn’t even imagine what Morgana must have felt like. He wanted to kill his father when he first heard of his lies, blaming Morgana for feeling the same way wasn’t right. She had done many terrible and unjustifiable things but he would not vindicate her for wanting Uther’s death. Was the kind woman who once fought for justice long gone as well? Was she just as heartbroken as he was? 

* * *

“Uh, sire?” Merlin tilted his head and asked after seeing a figure trying to hide behind a curtain. 

A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the covers. “Shut up. Not even a sound.” He whispered. 

He would have normally been on board with whatever Arthur was doing but it was Merlin who normally would be caught doing suspicious things, _not_ the King of Camelot. Arthur was usually forced by his servant to do said suspicious things. 

“What are you doing?” he mouthed, but before Arthur could be annoyed, another voice came from the side of the curtain, peeking in. 

“Hello?” Gwen smiled with confusion. 

Arthur immediately hauled her behind and covered her mouth. As the three of them were crammed up, Merlin and Gwen looked at each other in bewilderment, then to Arthur, and at each other again. _Great,_ _now the King_ _lost his mind._ After a few seconds, they heard two men passing by, one talking about the conditions that should be included in the treaty, the other asking where King Arthur is. They waited for them to leave completely to emerge from their hiding spot. 

“Hello!” 

The sudden image of the knight standing right in front of them made the three gasp. 

“Oh sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“It’s alright Mordred.” Said the King and sighed. 

The confused boy asked slowly and hesitantly. “What were you doing?” 

“Yeah, what _were_ you doing?” Merlin turned to him, crossing his arms. 

“What did it look like? I was hiding from them.” As Arthur gestured an empty hallway, all of them turned their heads to that direction. 

“Why?” Another bewildered question came from the queen. 

“I – Ugh. Look it’s great to be the King but I haven’t exactly anticipated it to be so…” He stared off into the hallway. 

“Boring? Tiring? Too much work? Too much responsibility?” Merlin said mockingly. 

Arthur snapped his fingers not catching his sarcasm. “Yes!” he groaned, “The Lord’s keep suggesting absolutely terrible ideas, and King Sarrum –” he suddenly stopped, “Never mind.” 

The truth was that Arthur was having second thoughts about this treaty with King Sarrum, he was a ruthless man who hated magic. The only reason he wanted to form this alliance was to assure protection from Morgana. However the battle with sorcery wasn’t just on the surface anymore, he was having a battle of his own about the true nature of magic after Merlin’s speech. Did it actually corrupt or as Merlin put it, there were good sorcerer’s but they were hiding because of fear? 

He was snapped back to reality with Gwen’s chuckle. “You are Arthur Pendragon, I’m sure you can handle this. If you wish I could take a look at the drafts?” 

“Thank you, Guinevere.” He smiled and nodded before the Queen left with Mordred tagging behind, leaving Merlin and Arthur alone in the hallway. The two avoided looking at each other, briefly. 

“Need my help?” Merlin tilted his head and smiled with his hands tied behind his back and swaying slightly. 

The King, seeing his servant’s playful demeanor grinned instinctively, “I do, actually.” 

Then they both started talking at the same time. 

“Thank you for giving me space –” 

“I’m sorry for hiding the truth –” 

Both stopped and the tension between them suddenly dropped as did all of Merlin’s worries. “So, are we good?” he asked. 

Arthur brought his servant close to ruffle his hair, “Of course we are.” He said as the pair started walking off side by side. 


	5. meet me where the snowmelts flows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the brain cells are exclusive to Gwen, and Gwen only!

“You do realize I’m a fully trained physician, right?” Merlin said, annoyed by the King hovering over him anxiously as he tended to the wounds of one of King Sarrum’s delegates, injured by a sharp object in a tavern brawl. The last thing Arthur needed was the delegate dying, that man was surely both stupid and savage enough to take anything as an excuse to blatantly wage war. Gaius wasn’t available, however, tending to the sick of the lower town, so he was stuck with Merlin. He paced back and forth, not catching that Merlin clearing his throat is an evident sign to express that he was being bothered by Arthur. So as the young man kept stitching up the delegate’s wound, he just tried to tune out the frustrating footsteps. 

The sheer concentration on Merlin’s face made it look like he knew what he was doing, yet this piece of information still wasn’t enough for Arthur to have full confidence in him. The very same clumsy servant of his who, mind you, would trip walking on a straight road and drop plates randomly was a physician now. Sure, Merlin gave good advice every once in a while, maybe even wrote good speeches, and was loyal to a fault, but he hadn’t shown competence in any other areas, not especially ones that required precision and delicacy. 

“Since when?” Penny dropping just now, Arthur made a wry face and sat down. 

“Since,” he tied a knot, “last year. Done.” 

Merlin neither noticed him doing a _Not-Bad_ pout, nor Arthur watching him, as he pulled the cover on the patient gently, wetting a towel and placing it on top of his forehead. As he turned back and washed his hands, turning the water into a hue of red. Arthur thought he could watch him do anything, no matter how mundane, all day without losing any fraction of interest. Maybe if… 

Arthur shook his head back to reality. The reality where that thought was not leading anywhere, where he was a king and the man in front of him was his servant. 

“He should be fine by tomorrow morning.” 

“Should? That’s reassuring.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “He _will_ be fine by tomorrow morning,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I keep telling you, I’m a lot more competent than you think, and if your head wasn’t so far up your ass you’d see that, _my lord_ _.”_

Arthur grinned. “I’m sure _that’s_ the problem and not your performance history for the past nine years.” 

“You’re impossible, you know that right?” Merlin grinned back, shaking his head. 

“You’d get bored otherwise.” 

“I’d have some peace and quiet. Now if you’ll excuse me sire,” he said, headed for the door, “I have places to be.” And disappeared without even waiting for a response. 

* * *

The armory was a mess after the knight’s training session and Merlin was starting to think that they were cluttering everywhere on purpose, he didn’t really mind it though because well, they were good company. And his suspicions were right of course, they wanted to drag Merlin along to anywhere they could, the knights considered him as one of their own –the title didn’t matter, but rather than outright admit it, they preferred the more subtle approach. 

Merlin would usually mind his business, unable to contain his smile when one of them would get up to something, which happened to be Sir Gwaine for the most part, therefore unintentionally encouraging him to proceed with whatever chaotic plan he had in mind. His agenda today was oddly harmless, limited with casually annoying the current cohabitants of the armory. The next target was acquired as soon as the newest member of their loyal circle made the perilous mistake of asking when the next session would be, unaware that he was, in fact, not going to get an answer. 

“Mordred,” Gwaine said playfully, leaning on the table, “You are wearing your tunic inside out.” 

The boy looked down to check, only to be greeted with a flick on his nose. 

“Don’t be a child Gwaine.” Sir Leon moved towards them. “Here, allow me to help you get out of it.” 

“It’s not inside ou –” Before he could protest, however, Leon ripped his tunic open. 

“There you go.” He said proud of himself and ruffled his hair. The unlikely pair nodded to each other and everyone started leaving one by one, laughing. 

Percival offered him a new tunic but as Mordred went to reach it, he hovered it over his head. “You have to win the tunic, my young disciple.” He said like he was some sort of a wise old man. Mordred rolled his eyes, smiling, and tried to grab it by jumping a few times. After his failing plan, he resorted to getting on top of a table to grab it but Percival moved away from him. In response, Mordred took the only course of action he could: Jumping on top of Percival _from_ the table. Alas, he was victorious. Percival bowed to him, as did Elyan, who was the only one left besides Merlin. 

After they all left, leaving both sorcerers alone, Merlin spoke. 

“Don’t worry about the teasing.” he offered a sympathetic smile, “it means they like you.” 

Mordred was caught off guard by Merlin speaking to him directly in a way that didn’t include suspicion or dislike. “No –uh, I don’t mind. It’s actually really nice, I never had –uh, friends. Like this.” 

Merlin found the boy’s nervousness quite amusing, and he asked as he kept organizing the knight’s weapons. “Never?” 

“Yeah. You know… considering…” The boy’s words trailed off. Merlin regretted a little asking that, but always assumed Mordred had friends around his age in the druid camps. He also didn’t really understand why Mordred was anxious over a friendly conversation, since he was calm and collected most of the time. 

“I didn’t either until I was around your age. Then I met Arthur unfortunately, and everything went downhill from there.” 

Mordred laughed and he stood around for a few minutes awkwardly while Merlin kept humming along to a song while sharpening the King's swords, unaware of the fact that the boy wanted to talk more. 

“What is that song?” he finally asked. 

“Oh, it’s something my mother used to sing to me. My voice is not nearly as good as hers though.” Merlin smiled and as he was finished up, he walked past the boy to leave the armory. “She would like you.” He said standing in the doorway. 

Seeing how Mordred’s eyes lit up to the comment, Merlin softened. What that druid seer showed him aside, he was just a boy. A boy who also had Arthur’s and Camelot’s best interests at heart, who didn’t agree with Morgana’s ways, a boy who didn’t have any other friends to mess around with. A boy who looked up to him as he was raised hearing stories about the powerful Emrys. A version of him that was deeply beloved by the druids. Truth be told, Merlin was never comfortable with his popularity among them, yet he would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the idea of Mordred considering him as a big brother, turning to him for advice. 

“You know what?” he grinned, “I was planning on visiting her anyway. Would you like to accompany me?” 

The boy looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’d love that.” Then he replied, excited, still unsure what he’d done to prompt Merlin’s newfound friendly attitude towards him. 

* * *

The next day Merlin got up early to finish all his chores as soon as he could. 

“And here’s your clothes washed, armor polished, sword sharpened, paperwork organized, boots cleaned, oh –also look what I have behind me! Your favorite dessert!” He had placed everything on the King’s dining table. 

“What do you want?” Arthur rolled his eyes. 

Merlin scoffed. “Why do you always assume I have something to ask? Maybe I’m trying to be a good servant for once! Have you –Have you even considered that I care about my job sire? I don’t –” His ramblings were stopped short by the cake Arthur had calmly shoved all over his face. 

“Can I have a few days off?” he said quietly with exasperation. 

“No.” Arthur took a bite from whatever was remaining from the plate. 

“I was going to visit my mother.” 

“Hm.” He took another bite. “This tastes really good, wish I hadn’t smeared it all over your face.” 

“Bet you do.” 

Arthur walked towards his desk and picked up some papers. “I’m messing with you Merlin. Send her my regards.” 

“Oh, you’re actually allowing?” asked a surprised Merlin, receiving mixed signals. 

“Of course I do, you idiot. It’s your mother, I give you permission every time you ask. Now go, get yourself cleaned up. Your face is already hard enough to take seriously, even without the cake.” 

“Thank you sire!” Merlin marched off excited and added, “Be back in three to four days! Hey Gwen!” he left after almost crashing into a grinning Guinevere. 

“The state of his face is your work, I presume.” They met halfway and she wrapped her arms around Arthur. 

“Maybe.” Arthur smirked before kissing his wife. 

“Truly a humble king you are.” She said, teasing him. Her eyes caught the pile of papers on his desk and she walked towards it with a troubled face. Picking up the same papers that she examined a day prior, she scowled and spent a few more minutes shuffling through them. By the time she was finished, Arthur was standing by the window behind his desk, waiting patiently for her to speak what was troubling her mind. She talked as she walked towards him. 

“Arthur… Are you certain that King Sarrum has well intentions?” 

He hesitated because the truth was that a man like that could never do something without having an interest of his own. “I’m certain that our Kingdom needs protection.” 

“And is he the right man to accept this protection from?” 

Arthur took her hands between his. “You have every right to be concerned Guinevere, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have any doubts. But Morgana…” He looked outside the window and saw his servant talking to some people. Guinevere noticed his gaze. 

“What is it, Arthur?” 

He exhaled loudly. “It’s something Merlin said. He believes that magic isn’t evil.” 

“He said that?” Gwen’s eyes widened, “what prompted him?” 

“I’m not sure honestly,” he scoffed, “It’s strange, I thought he was against it or indifferent maybe, but he seemed really… _P_ _assionate_ about his views on magic.” 

Gwen raised an eyebrow, looking outside like she was trying to figure something out. “Did he now?” 

Not hearing his wife’s muttering, he squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t worry about King Sarrum.” 

“If you say so,” she said as she smiled warmly at him, then turned her head back down to see Merlin readying the horses as Mordred was sitting on one of them, “I haven’t seen him like this in such a long time. Where is he off to?” 

Looking down, Arthur instinctively smiled as well, “Visiting Hunith.” 

“Oh, I missed her! It’s been half a decade since I last saw her!” she replied with excitement. 

“You could go if you wish, I’m sure she’d appreciate it. I believe he is going with Mordred. In any way, safety shouldn’t be an issue.” Seeing Gwen’s grin, he added. “Come on, hurry or they will leave without you.” 

* * *

They did leave without her. It wasn’t that they would mind, it was just that they didn’t know she was tagging along in the first place. Upon missing their takeoff, The Queen was accompanied by another knight who would drop her off and return after catching up to the two. Granted, she was only behind a few hours but that was more than enough time for Merlin and Mordred to speak freely, about anything they wanted. 

The rode in a comfortable silence at first, then Merlin started telling short stories about how he met the other knights as the boy listened to them with pleasure. He particularly enjoyed hearing about Lancelot and how he knew about Merlin’s magic because, in Mordred’s words, it was a miracle how Arthur, or anyone else really, hadn’t found out about Merlin’s abilities for all those years. 

“I’ve never met a more oblivious man. Seriously, the number of times I saved his backside! Oh, what’s that? A tree branch falling to a bandits head, for the tenth time!? That’s obviously how branches work, dropping on the heads of enemies all the time! How convenient!” 

Mordred laughed, “I would have never believed it before if I had heard that the most powerful sorcerer in the world’s preferred battle strategy was dropping branches on top of people’s heads.” 

“You keep laughing, but it’s quite effective,” Merlin retaliated, enjoying the conversation, “Has anyone told you about the time Uther married a troll?” 

“What!?” Mordred’s face was priceless. Absolute, and utter confusion followed up by sheer distress and finally hysterical laughter, “No, that couldn’t have happened. Absolutely no way.” 

“Oh, but it did happen.” This was Merlin’s favorite story to tell, solely because of the initial reaction people gave. He remembered the time when he and Leon tried to convince Gwaine, for _hours_ that it actually happened and they even did more than just marrying but the man just kept on refusing to believe, because as he put it, it was way too good to be true. In a last desperate attempt to prove it, they cornered and forced Arthur to confirm, and upon seeing how uncomfortable he got, Gwaine absolutely lost it. For weeks, he wouldn’t stop mentioning that Arthur’s father had laid with a troll at the most inappropriate times. One time, he used it to distract the King in the middle of their sparing contests and he did succeed but in hindsight, it probably wasn’t worth being assigned extra patrol duties. No, scratch that. It was definitely worth it. 

Time flew and before the sun started to go down, they decided to get started on a camp. The job was actually so much more easier since the two of them were able to use magic, which felt slightly uncomfortable at first, mostly for Merlin. Openly using magic was something he had been avoiding for so long that it was strange to be faced with such sudden freedom. 

Mordred had also noticed his hesitations and spoke after his eyes glowed, lighting the campfire. “Feels odd, doesn’t it? Hopefully one day, we will get to be comfortable with ourselves.” 

“I believe we will.” He assured the boy, looking at the fire. After a brief moment of silence, he added, “Go on, ask.” 

Surprised by Merlin’s directness, the boy struggled to form a sentence. “Uh, well. I guess I wanted to know– uh,” he cleared his throat and, “I was thinking you could tell me why you hated me so much before?” 

Merlin fully expected that question, yet he still cringed hearing it out loud. He exhaled and very carefully spoke. “When we first met, I was lead to believe by – by someone I trusted that,” he looked at the boy grimacing, “you’d be responsible for Arthur’s death.” 

Mordred was taken aback. “What!?” he exclaimed. _Understandable._ “ What do you mean I would be responsible for Arthur’s death!? He saved my life! Why would I – I could _never_ even begin to think –” 

“I know that now.” Merlin reassured him. 

The boy sat in silence, staring off to a distance whilst trying to process what he just heard. “Hold on, did you say when we first met?” Mordred rubbed his eyes and temples. 

“Uh-huh.” Unfortunately for Merlin, his degree of embarrassment would only rise from this point onwards. 

“I was _ten_ years old.” A burst of bewildered laughter came from him, which Merlin believed to be quite a reasonable reaction. 

“In my defense, I was seventeen and easily tricked,” he sighed, “but I am still truly sorry Mordred.” 

“No, I understand. You only wished to protect your friend. Consider your apology accepted.” 

“Well, there _is_ more.” He cringed again, but he was unable to continue as they heard someone approaching them from a distance. Both bolted up to the sight of the Queen. 

“Gwen? What are you doing here?” Merlin asked in shock, helping her off her horse. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, I could leave if you wish, but I wanted to come along for old times sake.” She offered a sorry smile. 

Merlin sighed but then returned his old friend's smile. “Right, of course you’re welcome.”

“Your majesty,” Mordred cut in, “forgive me but what if something were to happen – I mean you’re the Queen.” 

Gwen nodded knowingly. “I'm sure I will be fine Mordred. Besides, I reckon I am more than safe with two sorcerers by my side.” 


	6. caught up in a rush, it's killing you

Merlin’s mind went blank, for the lack of a better word. The two men hadn’t moved an inch after what Gwen had said, though Mordred was just feeling confusion rather than fear, which was more in line with what was going on inside Merlin’s mind. It seemed that every other day he was finding himself in sudden and unpleasant confrontations, which were caused by him, yes, but he still thought it was unfair that he couldn’t catch a breath. 

_I’m guessing you haven’t told her, right_ _?_ He heard Mordred’s voice echoing through his head. 

_No_ _._

_How does she know? What will we say_ _?_

They were having a silent conversation, well it wasn’t an actual conversation as it was just Mordred asking for directions and Merlin blinking slowly, whilst Gwen had sat in front of the fire, warming her hands. 

Truth be told, the last few years Merlin had always actively avoided thinking about the day his secrets and lies would be discovered, deep down hoping it wouldn’t actually come. When he was a boy, he would daydream about saving Arthur, as per usual, but this time he would see that it was Merlin and his magic. Arthur would be impressed, and he wouldn’t hate magic. Voila. Those were simpler times, and they were just innocent, maybe stupid, daydreams far away from the reality he was in, and for that very same reason, his childish fantasies had to come to a stop. As the years went on, it became harder and harder to wish for the day he would finally stop lying about who he was because the ugly truth was that doing too much of anything would make a person never know how to quit it. 

Upon not getting an answer, Mordred elbowed him and whispered with panic. “Merlin?” 

Another thing about lying and hiding about an important portion of your identity was that you’d eventually forget how to be comfortable with that part of yourself, and being hit with the sudden realization of ‘this is who you are, you no longer have to hide’ wasn’t such an easy concept to accept. There were accomplishments that he was quite proud of, but those feats had remained in the shadows for so long that there was no other place for them that would feel quite _right_ , and certainly not the trophy shelf. 

And Gwen. Her attitude being this nonchalant –Merlin didn’t know what to do with that. He expected yelling, anger, demands for an explanation. Granted, that’s not who Gwen was as a person, but he thought he deserved it nonetheless. He wanted someone to shout at him, reprimand him, he needed consequences for his actions. After all of his mistakes and lies, how could he possibly be worthy of a happy ending? 

“Won’t you join me?” Gwen stood up and sighed at the sight of her distressed friend, with a very confused Mordred standing right next to him. 

“I can’t believe how I could not figure it out sooner,” she walked towards them with the realization that she should have given an explanation, “And I probably wouldn’t have if Arthur hadn’t told me about your views on magic.” She looked sad yet affectionate. 

“Everything made perfect sense afterward. The story you told me, about that man discovering he was part of something bigger... All those times Merlin,” her voice was sympathetic, “All those times Camelot, Arthur, even I were miraculously saved, all of them had one connection. It was you, wasn’t it?” 

After Merlin swallowed and looked away, Gwen directed her attention to Mordred. “And you! For Goodness sake, you were the druid boy who showed up at our doorstep all those years ago, hunted and wounded! How could I forget your name?” She scolded herself but an assuring nod came from the knight. 

She raised an eyebrow waiting for a response from Merlin, any response. “You don't need to be afraid Merlin, I’m not angry –” 

“Well, you should be Gwen,” he finally made eye contact, “I lied to you! My actions have put you and everyone in danger!” He stopped himself short. 

After a brief moment of silence, Mordred looked between them awkwardly. “I’ll be by the fire.” 

“Merlin, you didn’t have any obligations to tell me. It’s your secret and you’re not entitled to share it with anyone,” Gwen said shaking her head, “And I believe most of us being alive, despite everything we have been through – you have done more than enough.” 

Merlin’s eyes darted around, not knowing what to say. His mind went to the thing he feared most. “Does… Does Arthur know?” 

“No, it’s not my place to tell anyone, let alone Arthur.” 

His heartbeat fastened. When they were young, Merlin had never wholly believed that Arthur would immediately execute him upon learning he was a sorcerer but who was he to put Arthur in that position, between obeying his father’s laws or saving his puny servant? Then Arthur became king and everything was suddenly a lot different, his father was taken from him because of magic. After something like that, Merlin thought now more than ever he could never tell Arthur without him absolutely hating his guts. _It’s pure evil_ , the words that shattered his heart stung his mind once again. He thought that knowing truth about his birth would change his views but it hadn’t seemed to accomplish that just yet. 

Wasn’t the thought of telling Arthur the truth supposed to be easier to come to terms with now, as he was slowly starting to see magic in a different light, maybe understanding it wasn’t truly soul corrupting like he learned growing up? Even if he were to accept the nature of magic, that it was neither good nor evil, Merlin had also feared something different. The problem at this point was more to do with the fact that both of them were living in a web of lies Merlin had created, for almost a decade. What was Arthur supposed to think upon learning ‘the one person he trusted the most’ had been deceiving him from the moment they met? Yes, the had reasons but lies are still lies at the end of the day, trust can still easily be broken. Arthur had forgiven him for hiding the truth behind his birth but what would he think after learning that he lied _again_? Could Arthur look at Merlin the same way, count on his words the way he used to? He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him and their bond. Gwen seemed understanding but she had always been an easygoing person. Arthur wasn’t. He let go of those thoughts, for now, snapping back to the present moment.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what? Protecting us?” 

“I don’t know, I’m not used to it. People not shouting at me for my faults, I mean.” 

“I still can if you wish.” she laughed. 

“No, no,” he gave a chuckle, “I think I’ll manage.” 

“Good. Now, you have to tell me everything _properly_ from the start. Preferably after a good night’s rest.” As she walked towards the campfire, smiling. 

“Gwen?” Merlin stopped her halfway, “Thank you. For everything.” 

* * *

Arthur was uneasy the day after Merlin and Guinevere's departure, and unfortunately, he had good reasons to be so. Not only had King Sarrum showed up himself at the castle’s doorsteps without any news beforehand, but he also had an unnecessary amount of knights trailing behind him. Alas, he could not turn down their rather impolite visitation and promised them a feast that evening. 

“We have an alliance to seal, don’t we Arthur!” 

“Of course, please make yourselves at home.” He had said reluctantly. 

_For_ _Camelot_ , he kept reminding himself. _I have a responsibility to my Kingdom._

The feast was vibrant, but there was a wave of coldness overtaking the tone of the room. “Tell me Arthur,” the old man took a sip from his chalice, a sneer on his face, “Do all the treaties you make take this long to prepare, or have you been purposely dragging it out?” 

Arthur disliked the man's tone but played it safe. “King Sarrum I assure you, I only wish for the protection of my people –” 

“As the son of Uther,” Arthur shifted in his seat uncomfortably as the man continued, “I truly hope that you haven’t lost sight of your ideals per our last conversation. It would be a shame.” 

“What would be a shame?” The two kings weren't looking at each other as they spoke, an eerie tension falling between them.

“In the event that you have gone soft, the battle against sorcery would surely be lost. We can’t afford Camelot falling into the hands of Morgana,” his voice was calm yet filled with disgust, “She may be your sister by blood, but I highly doubt she would have mercy on you for that reason. She’s nothing more than a vile creature of pure evil.” 

With every word that came out of his mouth, Arthur became more vexed as he didn't like what was being implied, and that wasn't the only thing bothering him. Even though it seemed that his heart would remain closed for her after everything she had done, Arthur’s throat still ached to hear those words about his sister, he clenched his jaw. “Careful Sarrum, those words could easily be interpreted as threats,” he smiled insincerely, “You wouldn’t have the audacity to do that inside the walls of _my_ castle now, would you?” 

“Of course not. Rest assured, I only try to ease your mind from doubts,” he raised his cup and his voice, “To our new alliance!” 

“Hear! Hear!” The crowd chimed. 

After the feast, Arthur discreetly pulled Sir Leon aside. “Double the security, I want guards at every corner of the castle until Sarrum is out of our hair. Is there any word from the patrols?” 

“Still no sign, sire. Do you think Sarrum will get up to something?” 

“Not sure yet. I don’t trust him.” 


	7. like a force to be reckoned with

The castle had been awfully quiet that morning, and not just because of Merlin’s absence. Arthur was not a morning person, but he had to admit that his servant had made it a lot more tolerable for him. Now that he was not there to provide just that, Arthur’s agitation from the night before continued to linger on him like the sticky mud it was. 

The castle was quiet, maybe even too quiet. 

* * *

It was always pleasant for Merlin to wake up with the morning lights shining through the branches as it softly touched his closed eyelids, hearing the distant melodies of the birds and the subtle smell of burned wood rising from the blown-out campfire. For a brief moment, he was fine. 

Everything was going to be fine. 

* * *

Something was wrong, Arthur thought that if Merlin were there, he would absolutely tell him that he had one of his funny feelings. Maybe his servant’s ridiculous paranoia had rubbed off on him. But then why didn’t he recognize these guards and where had all the workers gone? 

Suddenly, the door he passed by opened and he was pulled inside by one hand and his mouth covered with another. 

* * *

“I’ll start with the Great Dragon, I guess.” 

As the remaining road was short enough, the three decided to go on foot for the rest of the way. After a small magic demonstration for Gwen, to which she watched in awe as a lively peony formed in his hands, he started telling his story. 

He didn’t include many details to the tale, just enough to let them know how he ended up in this mess. It was his story, much as it didn’t feel like he was in control of it; and still his mess, much as he wanted to shift the blame. 

* * *

Arthur grunted and resisted the force pulling him to the opposite end of the darkened room. His struggles ended, however, when he was met with the image of Sir Leon making a _shush_ face in the mirror that he was dragged in front of. 

“Sire,” he released the King from his grasp and continued in a whisper, “I fear the citadel may be infiltrated.” 

Arthur peeked outside from the closed curtains, no sign of – anyone really, other than a few guards he could pick out standing by the gates and stairs. The castle square was normally filled with servants buzzing around and traffic of knights coming in and out. 

“Where are all the knights?” Arthur said as he was trying to make a plan at the back of his head. 

“I don’t know sire. I went to check the kitchens upon not receiving my breakfast – no one was there. I immediately searched for you.” 

“Check their chambers. Gather the ones you can find and meet me here in no more than an hour.” 

* * *

“Then I –” Merlin winced and spoke slowly, wishing this part wasn’t real, “I poisoned Morgana.” 

“Poisoned?” 

“Merlin!” 

The Queen and the knight spoke at the same time as they stopped in their tracks, both with equal tones of disappointment that jumped and spread through their faces. 

“Look, I know I shouldn’t have put myself – and her, in that position in the first place, trust me there is nothing I regret more,” he exhaled, “But it wasn’t like I had any other choice at that point.” 

Gwen sighed in exasperation, her heart getting heavier by imagining what Morgana must have felt at that moment. “That… That is not an excuse Merlin.” And there it was. The reaction Merlin believed he deserved to see in the first place. Gwen avoided making eye contact with him, “Surely, there had to be another way.” She said in disbelief. 

Merlin’s face was pained, for all to see. Gwen never spoke of Morgana after what had happened – their relationship had always been strong, much like his and Arthur’s. She never voiced it but Merlin knew very well that Morgana’s betrayal had broken her heart and him playing a role in that… That was only one of the reasons why he thought that he didn’t deserve Gwen’s support. 

“I know. I wish I could make it right, I really do.” That was all he could say. 

Mordred spoke suddenly as he looked up to the vibrant blue sky. “We don’t always have the privilege to make the right choices in times of despair, what matters is our willingness to correct them,” he petted his horse with sorrow filled eyes, “As it was your choice to push her down that path, choosing to keep going down – that is _her_ choice.” 

Gwen took a deep breath and looked at them with determination. “We’ll find a way to make it right. Morgana… She may be gone, but we can try to make it right, for the rest of your kind.” 

* * *

While he was fuming with anger, directed generally at himself, Arthur couldn’t help being impressed at the same time. How did a stupid man like that manage to carry off a plan of this scale so silently? And on the same note, how could he let this happen in the first place? 

He was _mostly_ relieved by the fact that Guinevere was safe, far away from this whole ordeal, but unfortunately, it was just _‘mostly’_ because he really needed Merlin by his side right about now. The man wasn’t, by any means, a fighter but his sole existence, something about him would be enough to make Arthur believe that they could pull anything off, turning the tides of any battle they face together. But unfortunately, Arthur was alone for this one, and little did he know that everything would get only worse from now. 

After Leon left, Arthur sneaked his way to the corridor where Sarrum’s chambers were located and he was greeted with the unpleasant sight of multiple guards swarming the entrance. It was hard enough to get to that position without being caught by anyone, but now there was another mystery he had to solve, what had Sarrum done with the servants and Camelot’s guards? 

From there, he carefully ventured to the old physician’s chambers. Empty, as he expected. What piqued his curiosity, however, was that there were absolutely no signs of struggle anywhere. He walked around examining the room, but it was too clean and everything seemed to be where it should be. As he was leaving, a small pouch under a chair caught his eye. He picked it up, and as soon as he smelled it his head spun slightly, dizziness taking over him for a few seconds. Whatever was in that pouch, it was something strong. _Well, that answers one question_. 

He returned to the room the same way he left it, Leon was already waiting for him with a look on his face that was almost enough to let Arthur know that his plan was far from successful. 

“I couldn’t find anyone sire.” 

Arthur rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Find Guinevere. She should be in Ealdor. Let her know.” 

“Sire, I can’t leave you alone here –” 

“That’s an order, Leon.” 

“What will you do?” He asked, distraught. 

“I’ll free my men.” 

* * *

The woman’s face beamed the moment she saw her son and hugged him longingly. 

“I missed you too. And I,” he held out his hands to show his friends, “Brought visitors.” 

The woman’s voice was delighted and surprised. “Oh, your majesty! It’s an honor to have you here.” 

“Please Hunith,” Gwen reached out and held her hands, “You can call me Gwen. The pleasure is all mine.” 

Merlin smoothly slid behind Mordred to grab his shoulders and brought him forward. “This is Sir Mordred.” He smiled proudly. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” The knight said as he gave a polite nod. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well, young man,” Hunith nodded back and smiled lovingly, “Come on in, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll cook you something warm.” 

* * *

There was one place left he could imagine where everyone would be if they were alive. 

He knew of a back entrance to the dungeons, but getting there was the real problem especially considering that it was broad daylight, which meant that both him and Leon would wait for night to fall, making a plan until then. If Arthur were to fail, Leon would ride to get Queen Annis’ or Princess Mithian’s help, and Arthur ordered that under no circumstance Guinevere would set foot here until it was safe. 

“Why would Sarrum capture everyone else but leave us?” Arthur muttered to himself, peaking outside. 

It was dark enough. 

* * *

Merlin wasn’t used to his old house being this lively. It had always been him, his mother, and occasionally Will, which was quite appropriate since the house was rather small. Gwen had been here before, of course, but that was many years ago and well – circumstances were a hell of a lot different back then. 

After the meal, catching up, and a smile Hunith miserably failed to contain which had gone unnoticed by everyone except Merlin after he mentioned that Arthur had sent his regards, it was time to rest. As Merlin was helping his mother cleaning up, out of their guest’s earshot, Hunith leaned in. 

“I believe another friend of yours is here.” 

Merlin gave her a confused look, to which Hunith pointed towards the stables with her head. They both looked behind, and upon confirming that Gwen and Mordred were sleeping, Hunith grabbed her son’s wrist gently and took him to the small wooden shack. 

“It’s dark.” 

Hunith had to roll her eyes, which didn’t hold much of a significance because Merlin was right, as it wasn’t possible to really see much in there. “Hm. It sure would be convenient to have someone with magic with us.” She whispered. 

“Oh, right.” Merlin chuckled, his eyes glowed as he reiterated a spell creating a ball of blueish light that flew up and positioned itself there. In the corner of the room, they saw Aithusa sleeping and approached her slowly. Merlin noticed for the first time how big she'd actually gotten over the years, as well as the thin wounds all over her body. It made him flare with anger and bitterness, how anyone could hurt such a beautiful being and call her a monster when in reality, _they_ were the monsters instead. The dragon had been through so much, yet she never surrendered her playful, lighthearted nature to the ones who have mistreated her. Maybe Aithusa had made Morgana connect with the fragments of her old self, Merlin thought, as he kept finding more and more reasons helping him understand why they bonded together. Both were abandoned, they were akin, they not only completed but also needed each other. Merlin had brought her to this world and Aithusa loved him for it, but Morgana cared and _kept_ her in this world and that – That was something irreplaceable.

“It showed up just before your arrival and seemed to trust me. So, I hid it here.” 

Merlin crouched and pet her head, smiling. “Her name is Aithusa.” 

The dragon blinked slowly, seeing him she wagged her tail, she seemed distressed by something Merlin couldn’t understand, but she also seemed really tired, that he could get. She tried to fight off a yawn but gave in, closing her eyes back. 

“I see you take after your father.” Hunith crouched next to him, ruffling his hair. 

“Lot more than I could have imagined," he paused and sat, putting his chin on his knees, "I wish I had more time with him. More time to be a proper family.” He was used to it at this point, tears rushing to his eyes as he thought about the things he lost – no, lost wasn’t the right word. To lose something, you had to have it in the first place. Merlin placed his head on her shoulder. 

“I know sweetheart,” she stroked his cheek, “Look on the bright side, you’ve found yourself a family in Camelot. You have friends – and Arthur.” 

Merlin snorted. While wiping away his tears, he spoke mockingly. “I’m a lucky man.” 

“You are though,” Hunith spoke in a heartbeat, “A family doesn’t have to be by blood and he –” 

“He wouldn’t even look at me if he truly knew who I was.” 

“Don’t be so unfair to yourself. He knows your heart,” she adjusted his hair, “ _That_ is who you are, and he likes you because of it.” 

“It won’t matter if he likes me or not when he finds out. It’s not the way I – ” He spoke so quietly that he wasn’t even sure he had said it out loud. Still, Hunith didn’t have to hear it to know what was going on inside his mind, she had already heard about his feelings for Arthur many times, watched them evolve from frustration to confusion and blossom into a force to be reckoned with.

“Not the way you like him?” She said affectionately. 

“He doesn’t even realize the lengths I’ve gone for him. And no way in hell he would see me,” he made vague motions with his hands, “Like that.” 

He had been aware of his emotions for some time now, what he also figured was that what he wanted could never be. From the moment he stepped foot in Camelot and met that royal prat, he knew that something about him was different. Something about him made Merlin feel different. He didn’t necessarily know if it was good or a bad kind of feeling; nevertheless, he had set it aside, left abandoned in a distant corner of his -at that time- big heart. Those were a lot more simple times. Times with not yet discovered feelings and destinies. His heart was full of love, ready to share it with anyone who was willing to receive it, and not so surprisingly, there were close to non that weren’t captivated by his nature. The Prince, also being guilty of it. He had also felt the same way as Merlin, but unlike everyone’s favorite lanky country boy, he wasn’t aware that he was actually experiencing that different feeling, and he wouldn’t be for a long time. But this part isn’t about him just yet. This part is about all the times he and Arthur would catch each other glances over the sparkling fire as Merlin would be captivated every second he spent looking in his eyes, making him both lose and then rediscover himself once again. This part is about how deeply he would be infatuated with him every time Arthur made decisions showing how much he cared about other people, ready to sacrifice himself without a blink of an eye for the innocents. This part is for all the times Arthur cared about _him_ , the times Arthur went out of his way to protect Merlin, and the times Arthur couldn’t bear to see him upset. 

And finally the time everything became crystal clear to Merlin. When Arthur blew the Horn of Cathbhadh just as Uther was about to tell the truth about him. The moment Arthur chose Merlin over his father. The moment he looked in his teary eyes, it was as if the puzzle pieces that were scattered around his mind had fallen right into their places. Merlin knew. He knew that nothing had been about his destiny for a long time for him. He didn’t care about Albion’s Golden Age nor his own freedom half as much as he did Arthur, and then even when the Disir gave them the choice, his choice was already cut and dried. 

“You don’t know that.” Hunith retaliated. 

Merlin scoffed. “I’m pretty sure that do, considering you just made stew for his _wife_ ,” he gave a weak smile, “Besides, I’m fine with it. I want them both to be happy more than anything.” He did mean what he said, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like a dull knife had been stabbed through his heart. 

“One day you’ll look back to these days and laugh at yourself. And I want you to stop worrying about what Arthur will think of you. You two are inseparable, no matter what.” 

“Like two sides of the same coin, right?” 

She smiled. “Like two sides of the same coin.” 


	8. here we are, don't turn away now

The castle was a lot creepier at night, as you’d expect, but somehow it required a lot less effort to sneak around than Arthur had initially anticipated. The most discomforting thing, however, was how _still_ everything seemed to be. His life had already become weird enough, to the point that he wouldn’t be surprised if he were actually frozen in time, forced to wander in his own castle like an unrestful ghost. 

He stealthily found his way out of the castle and made his way into the back tunnels leading to the dungeons in the same manner. Going further down, for the first time since that morning, he heard signs of life disguised as discreet sounds of shuffling and chains clicking together. Peaking his around the corner, he saw weak knights and workers clustered up in cells that continued way back to the entrance of the dungeons, and all of them were filled entirely with the castle’s residents. He recognized one man in the cell in front of him. 

“Elyan.” He whispered. 

The man’s breathing was slow but he seemed conscious. Arthur looked at the left side of the corridor and at the far end, the entrance of the dungeons, the torches cast shadows of men. He crossed the corridor, crouching just next to Elyan. 

“Elyan.” He called out for him again, all the prisoners noticed him one by one, including Elyan, and straightened up looking at him with hopeful, expectant eyes. 

“Sire – ” His eyes went wide as he looked over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur felt a sword touching his lower back and delicately trailing up, and stopping as it aligned with his heart. 

“Now now, look at the noble king, trying to save his people,” a woman’s voice came from behind coated in a cocky tone and she giggled, “Has anyone told you that you’re as stupid as you’re noble, your majesty?” 

Arthur tried to rise from his position but as he did so, the pressure of the sword on his back rose instead. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“Who are you?” 

“You’ll know soon enough.” 

_Thud_. Just like that, everything went black. 

* * *

Arthur woke up a few hours just before the sunrise in one of the cells, alone, with a fierce headache. Well, he thought he was alone just briefly, then he saw a woman leaning back to the wall as she was fiddling with a dagger, at the corner far away from him. There was a big but old scar on her face, from once side of her forehead to the other side of her jaw. Yet the most unsettling thing about her wasn’t that. It was the emotion, or rather lack thereof, in her eyes – they were too familiar for Arthur’s liking. She reminded him of his sister at first, but no... Morgana couldn’t possibly be soulless like _that_ _._ She wasn't. 

“Morning, sire. Slept well?” 

“Like a king.” Arthur returned her snarky attitude. 

“Shame. You won’t be a king for much longer.” She took slow steps towards him. 

“Right then, kill me. I can’t see how that will work otherwise.” 

She laughed. “Please, we would have done so already if we wanted to.” 

“What do you want?” He stood up, rubbing his temples. 

“Oh! I thought that part was pretty clear, we want your kingdom.” 

“I can see that,” Arthur said behind gritted teeth, clearly annoyed, “ _Why_ do you want my kingdom?” 

“If Camelot is tolerant of magic, then there can be no Camelot.” 

Arthur felt uncomfortable by her piercing dead eyes. “Sarrum planned all of this, just because I was keeping an open mind?” 

“Oh no, Sarrum didn’t plan anything. This was all me. My father may be a king, but he’s certainly not bright enough to take down a kingdom from the inside,” she paced around, proudly, “And I don’t ever do something without a reason, like keeping you alive.” 

Arthur scoffed. “Alright. Humor me, why exactly am I still alive?” 

“Hm,” She looked straight at his heart as she pointed the dagger there, “You see, there is the distinct lack of a Queen in this castle. And Camelot is still Camelot, as long as the Queen keeps breathing – ” 

“If you harm even just one strand of her hair, you will regret the day you were born.” Arthur spoke with rage, caving into her provocations. 

She ignored his threats and continued to taunt him nonchalantly as she walked towards the door. “Luckily, her whereabouts will be known to us thanks to your beloved knight.” 

“If you think you can get away with this –” 

The woman laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Arthur. I already got away with it.” 

And that was the last thing he heard before the sound of the door closing echoed through the cell. 

* * *

They all said their goodbyes to Hunith and as they headed towards the woods back to Camelot, neither Gwen nor Mordred noticed Merlin altering their course slightly, just enough to pass by the cave that he hid Aithusa in. He had woken up a few hours before sunrise to sneak her out of the village safely. 

“I’m going to introduce you to someone.” He said with a grin on his face, after arriving at the entrance of the cave and Gwen asking why he had brought them there. 

“Aithusa?” Merlin called out. 

After a few seconds of nothing other than Mordred and Gwen looking at each other back and forth, the white dragon walked out of the cave. 

“Oh my!” Gwen gasped while Mordred had the biggest grin on his face Merlin had ever seen, which made him smile instinctively as well. 

The knight kneeled with the same amazed grin. “Hello, I'm Mordred.” 

Aithusa walked towards them gracefully and nodded calmly, keeping her energy restrained like she wanted to make a good impression. 

“I have so many questions…” Gwen said, completely in awe. 

“And I intend to answer, your highness!” Merlin jokingly bowed, “Shall we?” He waved his arms towards the road they were supposed to be taking. 

They started walking as Merlin told the story about her, but Aithusa seemed restless. She started tugging Merlin’s sleeve and whining. 

“What’s wrong –” 

They didn’t need an answer as they heard a horse galloping towards them. Merlin and Mordred raised their hands slightly and stood their ground. 

“Hide!” Merlin told Aithusa but it was too late for her to find a decent hiding spot, so the dragon just hid behind the three and their horses, causing all of their anxiety levels to jump high. 

Seeing a rather sweaty and hyperventilating Sir Leon, they dropped their shoulders and relaxed, only to realize that Leon does not, in fact, know of the existence of dragons, which resulted in their stress levels going back up fairly quickly without even questioning why Leon was here in the first place. 

Leon practically launched himself off his horse and somehow completely missed the big-ass dragon hiding, if you could call it that, behind his friends who were frozen in place. Well, he did have so much bigger problems on his mind – it’s okay to let this one slide. 

“I come with terrible news,” he said as he tried to catch his breath, “Camelot –” He stopped dead in his tracks. 

Gwen’s eyes widened. “What happened?” 

“I’m sorry, is that – is that what I think it is?” 

“What is?” Merlin said, trying to keep his cool. 

Leon pointed towards Aithusa, completely bewildered. “That’s a dragon.” 

Merlin's voice became high pitched. “Is it?” he narrowed his eyes, looking back at her.

 _How_ _were you ever able to keep your magic a secret_ _for nine years?_ He heard Mordred’s voice in his head to which Merlin simply mouthed “I don’t know.” And he really did not, you'd think someone with this big of a secret would be a lot more competent at thinking on his feet, but no.

“It is. That… Is a dragon. Behind you. A dragon…” The knight in shock muttered. 

“Don’t worry, she’s friendly.” Mordred said enthusiastically but that didn’t seem to help Leon a bit. 

Gwen finally cut in. “Priorities Leon! Priorities! What happened to Camelot!?” 

Those were the golden words to snap Leon back to the ugly reality. “Right, Camelot!” he exhaled loudly, finally looking away from Aithusa who was now standing behind only Merlin, as tense as the rest of them, “Camelot has fallen. They took the citadel from the inside.” 

“What!?” Merlin shouted, “We leave for two days! Two days!” He rubbed his eyes in frustration. 

“It was Sarrum, wasn’t it?” Gwen said like she was expecting something like this and she winced after Leon’s nod while the knight was still giving quick glances towards Aithusa. 

“Arthur?” 

“Is Arthur alright?” 

Guinevere and Merlin spoke at the same time, both sounding too exasperated. Seriously, how many times can a castle be infiltrated!? 

“When I left he was. I don’t know if he is –” 

Right at that moment, the sounds of several more horses galloping towards surrounded them. Five men emerged from the trees and as they closed in on them Leon and Mordred raised their swords. Their horses reared and neighed in fright just as Leon parried the hit from one of the men diving them straight on. After he passed by, Merlin looked behind, his eyes glowed gold and the man flew off from his horse, hitting the ground. 

Mordred and Leon were already dueling with two more of them as the last two charged towards Gwen. She leaped backwards, agilely dodging the first incoming lunge of the man’s sword, but she didn’t have time to move to evade the other one. Luckily, she didn’t have to. Aithusa roared and sank her teeth into the attacker’s calve, yanking him to the side while Merlin lunged forward to topple the other man getting ready to strike Gwen, pushing her out of the way. The man quickly regained his balance after darting up, he attempted to stab Merlin as he was laying down on his back, but the warlock swiftly rolled over. The sword stuck in the ground and before he could pull it back, Merlin took advantage and voiced a spell sinking the sword deeper in the ground. As the man tried to pull the sword out desperately, Gwen got up to her feet and kicked him in the face, knocking the man out cold. 

Merlin and Gwen exchanged impressed looks as she helped him up. They looked back to see Mordred pulling his sword out of one of the men and Aithusa helping Leon by diving headfirst into his opponent, launching him back just as he was about to deal a fatal blow on the knight. 

“Thank you!?” He exclaimed between pants, looking slightly frightened, a hell of a lot confused yet grateful. If anyone deserved a vacation, it was definitely Leon.

The attackers were all on the ground, motionless. They gathered together and Leon spoke. 

“Arthur must be captured, we must get help from Queen Annis.” 

“We don’t have that kind of time!” Merlin grabbed his arm before he could mount his horse. 

“There is nothing we can do. How can we possibly fend off an army?” 

“He’s right,” Gwen stepped forward, “You should go, get her help. We’ll stay put in Ealdor until then.” 

“Be careful,” Leon said before riding off, “And don’t worry, we’ll take back our city.” 

“Tell me we’re not going to sit around and do nothing.” Merlin said looking at Gwen as soon as the knight disappeared behind the trees. 

“Of course not.” 

“Do you believe we can do this on our own?” Mordred stood in front of them, “It’s risky, we need a good plan.” 

Then Aithusa started whining and tugging Merlin’s sleeve again, more persistent this time. She walked towards the west and looked back at them with eager eyes. 

“I think she wants us to follow her. She's been like this since last night.” Merlin said, already mounting his horse. "I have a feeling she knew about this."

Gwen was a little more hesitant. “And we are following her?” 

“Yes, we definitely are. Let's go!” 


	9. this one's for the faithless

The sky darkened by grey clouds, signaling the coming of a storm, and the wind hit their faces harshly as they followed the dragon guiding them dashed and flew through the woods for hours. Until finally, as the rain and the distant sounds lighting striking started, they stopped by a seemingly ruined stone building, too small to be a castle but too big to be a simple house. 

The three got down from their horses and examined the building while Aithusa wandered off somewhere in search of something, out of sight yet close by. Merlin spotted the door, equally damaged as the building, and he sensed something fused within the walls, too powerful for it to be just an ordinary place in the middle of nowhere. 

“Do you feel that as well?” Mordred stood next to him. 

“Yeah.” 

Then his heartbeat fastened gradually, shivers traveling down his spine. He turned around abruptly, as did the rest of them on seeing Merlin’s panic, and with the blink of an eye, they all hit the stone wall. They were suspended, unable to move a single joint in their bodies. It felt as if their lungs were being squeezed, making it hard to speak. Merlin grunted, tried to resist the force pinning them before he saw a figure approaching them, hand bruised and held out. 

“Well, well,” Morgana tilted her head and smirked, “And to what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Morgana…” Mordred tried to speak up, grabbing her attention for just a few seconds. Merlin could have sworn that for that split second, sadness and hesitation flashed in her eyes. 

Morgana averted her eyes on Mordred, however, fixing her gaze directly on Merlin, and she spoke with deep resentment. “Looks like I don’t have to put an effort to kill you after all.” 

Gwen’s eyes darted around, searching for a plan to get them out of there. Then when her search was fruitless, she looked at her struggling friends – the witch and the queen avoided eye contact on one another as the feelings of bitterness rooted deep within their flesh made it hard to do so. 

“What happened to you!?” cried out the knight with all the power he could find, “This isn’t the Morgana I knew and loved!” he managed to blurt out in a single breath. 

There is was again, the flicker of doubt. Gone again, as fast it had appeared in the first place. 

Right then, bushes at her side shuffled, and the dragon hopped out of them. Morgana inhaled loudly like she had found her heart back again and she smiled, mouth wide open. Her smile – the happiness in her eyes at that moment… Merlin felt like drowning with the remorse of it all, it was a wave crashing down and swallowing him whole, it was like his throat was on fire as the rest of his body. That was what he, and everyone who had wronged her, took away from the once hopeful, just woman who would fight for martyrs. That smile he hadn’t seen for what felt like an eternity, the very same one she would flash proudly before everything, before it all went to hell. Something so pure that for a fraction of a second, Merlin wanted to believe, for the sake of believing, that they could all somehow be forgiven, and everything could be fine. Back to how it was, as if none of what they have been through had actually happened. 

He could wish with all his might, yet that couldn’t change a single thing about the past. All of it did happen and he couldn’t take any of it back. Everyone had to suffer some kind of consequence, and forgiveness was something that had to be earned; it couldn’t be magically put back in their hearts. It was the only remaining force that could mend the broken shards of their bond with each other, but how could any of them believe in forgiveness if the pieces of their old selves were long lost, too far apart even to come close enough to be stitched back together? 

The raindrops on her face mixed with her tears of relief, Morgana dropped on her knees beckoning Aithusa. She held out her arms, and the young dragon hurried over to her. The force holding the three still weakened by the second, but before it could entirely disappear and the sorcerers could regain control, Merlin watched as her smile faded, as her eyes trailed off to the muddy grass, leaving the love behind and shifting to something tragic. An empty expression. 

She stood up and started muttering a spell, only for Aithusa to jump in front of her, whining. Morgana stopped with confusion overtaking her. She ignored the dragon and locked her eyes back on the three that were pinned against the wall. As she started the spell again, Aithusa flapped her wings, propelling herself upward, blocking the witch's vision. 

“What are you doing!?” She looked into the distressed dragon’s eyes, then she released the three with a scowl, just like that. They fell on their hands, and the rain started to turn into a soft, calm drizzle, unlike the unease overtaking the atmosphere. 

She crossed her arms and raised her chin as Aithusa sat right next to her. Merlin and Mordred shot a quick look at each other before getting up, and simply from that, the young knight got the hint that he should do the talking, so he stepped forward slowly. 

“I believe Aithusa wants you to help us.” 

Morgana scoffed and laughed. “Where did you get that part?” she let down her guard and glanced over to the dragon with soft but confused eyes, and her cold posture came back as she turned back at them, “If you think that I would ever help you –” 

“Sarrum took over Camelot.” Merlin said, taking a step forward. 

Anger flashed her eyes, and her skin crawled as she heard that name. She scoffed with disgust. “I can’t see how that is my problem.” 

“How can you say that!?” Mordred blurted out, clearly pained by what he was about to say, “He kept you and Aithusa in a well for two years! He tortured you – You can’t honestly believe Arthur is worse than him.” 

Remembering what both of them suffered, she got goosebumps all over her stiffened body. There wasn’t a single word that could describe the absolute agony that repulsive excuse of a man put them through. Two years she spent trapped and helpless, unable to do anything as her ears pierced, and her heart ached beyond anything imaginable with the desperate wails of her beloved Aithusa echoing in that dark godforsaken pit. Mordred was right, and she knew that. She knew that even her brother, the son of Uther Pendragon, couldn’t do anything half as cruel as that. Yet… That didn’t change anything as he, too, had abandoned her long ago. 

She smiled wickedly, in an attempt to cast away the painful memories, “He got what he deserved for trying to form an alliance with a scum like that.” 

Merlin couldn’t believe any of the things he was hearing, how could she put Arthur and him in the same box? 

“Arthur was changing his mind,” Gwen spoke for the first time, softly, “I’m certain that Sarrum attacked because of that.” 

“What?” Merlin was just as surprised to hear that as Morgana was. 

“You’re lying,” she shook her head in denial, “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.” 

Gwen suddenly stared right in Morgana’s eyes with an amount of fury not even Merlin had ever seen before, her fierce gaze even startled the witch. “How dare you?” 

Only three words. Soaked in hard feelings that she had repressed for so long. Upon learning about what Merlin had done, Gwen wanted to blame him for it all, even if it was just for a single moment. She wanted to believe that maybe Morgana was pushed, that perhaps it wasn’t her fault. But the truth was she was the one deciding to throw everything they had away. And even now – Even now, Gwen wanted Morgana to give her something, _anything_ , that could make her forgive the woman she once loved so dearly – and truth be told, deep down she still did. The bond they had, that was nearly impossible to erase completely. She was beyond angry at Morgana’s betrayal, feeling as if it came out of nowhere, and she should have hated her back, but then why couldn’t she bring herself to do it? 

“Look,” Merlin said quickly, changing the subject, “You can’t take your _rightful_ place at the throne if there is no throne left to take.” 

Morgana stood in silence for a few seconds. The tension in the atmosphere was slowly dissipating as more time passed, awaiting her response. “One condition. I’ll be dealing with Sarrum myself.” 

They were taken aback as none of them actually thought Morgana would agree because they didn’t really know the extent of Morgana’s desire to take revenge on Sarrum. And this was the perfect opportunity. Besides, who knows, maybe she’d take Camelot for herself in the meantime. _So many possibilities,_ she thought. 

“After that, we’ll part ways and pretend as nothing happened.” Mordred said, his voice leaving traces of sadness that went unnoticed by Morgana. 

“Exactly.” She nodded. 

* * *

They headed towards the fallen kingdom, not a word being spoken, which quite frankly didn’t bother any of them as there was nothing left to say at that point. Merlin would occasionally look back at Morgana to check if she was doing anything she shouldn’t be doing, to which Morgana would roll her eyes and sigh loudly, showcasing her annoyance, but as you can imagine, that didn't really stop Merlin. The fact that he was feeling guilty wasn’t changing the reality that she wasn’t the old Morgana, and he wasn’t going to let her out of her sight. 

The dragon, unlike any of them, was enjoying herself quite a lot as if she was celebrating her success, running ahead and flying on branches. To Morgana, the only part of this honestly _unpleasant_ gathering was being untied back with Aithusa; for her, she would endure absolutely anything. 

Before the nightfall, they set up a camp. Morgana sat far away from them with Aithusa, as the rest were gathered around the fire, and even when it was just them, they didn’t speak, as there were too many things clouding their minds. 

“We need a plan,” Mordred said quietly, breaking the silence, “Though we may have a High Priestess and the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth with us, they still have an army.” 

Gwen perked up suddenly after hearing that, and Merlin continued right after him carelessly, “Our best bet is the element of surprise.” 

The queen stayed silent, waiting for them to finish. “We should split up. Two freeing the knights and the other two dealing with Sarrum.” Mordred started. 

“I’ll go with Morgana and handle Sarrum.” 

“Then Gwen and I will free the prisoners.” 

“Alright, good plan. If that’s settled, what was that about the ‘most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth’?” She said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a stupid part of the prophecy that I –” 

“Neglected to mention?” 

“It’s really not that important –” 

“The druids call him Emrys.” 

“And I don’t like that very much –” 

“Emrys?” 

“Yes, I grew up hearing stories about him. He’s the most respected and admired man known among us.” 

“You’re talking as if I’m not right here –” 

“People were throwing tomatoes at you as when we first met! The most powerful sorcerer! They threw _tomatoes_ at you! You let Arthur call you incompetent on a daily basis, Merlin!” Gwen chuckled and looked at him, “And then you have people telling stories about you to their children!” 

Merlin laughed back. “What can I say? I have fans everywhere.” 

His smile slowly faded, however, as he looked towards Morgana, her back was turned and Aithusa’s head was on her lap. They all went quiet for a moment, the tone of their conversation shifting to a grim one. 

“Why haven’t you ever told her? About your magic, I mean?” Gwen asked. 

He thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. Everyone told me not to, and I just listened like an idiot,” then he looked at Morgana with determination, “Not anymore.” 

He had promised himself that he wouldn’t let anyone else, not even destiny, control his life. That he would listen to his heart and make his own choices. Merlin was going to take a leap of faith for her like he should have done a long time ago, even if it was too late for it to matter. He stood up and walked straight towards the witch. 

She raised her chin up high, hearing him approaching. “I have no desire to speak with you.” 

Aithusa opened her eyes and looked in hers deeply. Morgana clenched her jaw with anger, understanding what her companion was implying. 

“How did a useless servant boy like you manage to win the affections of her?” 

Merlin sat next to Morgana, the dragon in between them. “I brought her to this world.” He said casually. 

Morgana turned her head towards him, her eyebrows crossed. Merlin was nothing more than a lowly servant who had put his nose in places he had no business being in. That was who he was. He couldn’t have… 

Merlin smiled, his face was deeply pained, even Morgana could see that. “I’m much more than a servant, Morgana. Always was.” He said like he knew exactly what was going inside her mind. This wasn’t a conversation he expected to have – well, ever, really. But that was the price of wanting to make a change, doing things differently. For trying. 

“I’m the last Dragonlord.” 

She suddenly laughed, startling Merlin. “You? A Dragonlord?” 

“Why would I lie?” 

“Sorry if I’m having trouble trusting you. I’m more used to people going behind my back, rather than confronting me to my face.” She mocked coldly. 

“Right…” 

An ugly silence. 

That was all he did wasn’t it? Staying silent. Once again, he wanted to pour out his heart and soul, say the things he wanted without any restriction. Merlin thought he screwed up the last time he did just that, after that night in the tavern. Yet that wasn’t the case... Some good did come out of it. He had decided on a path and this time? This time he was going to commit to it, no matter how hard it was for him to speak his mind. He was going to find a way. 

“I’ve always thought we were so different. That I’d never turn into you,” He said as Morgana gave him a side-eye, “But I realized that I easily could have, if someone had nudged me towards that direction, like I have done to you.” 

She started tensing up but didn’t say anything. They couldn’t be more different, Morgana thought. 

“And you have every right to take it all out on me. Blame me, hate me. I betrayed you, and – ” he swallowed, taking in a deep breath, “And I could say sorry a million times but I couldn’t expect your forgiveness nor can I convince you that among all the terrible things I have done, that is the one I regret the most. If I could take it back, I would without batting an eye.” 

She winced. _Among all the terrible things I have done?_ What was he talking about? 

“But one thing I don’t understand is… Why Arthur and Gwen? Me and Uther? I understand that –” 

“You can’t even understand half of it.” 

“No, you’re right. I can’t. I told you before that I understood better than anyone but I had my mother and Gaius. You had no one.” 

She was losing her temper more and more as he kept talking, none of his words making any sense to her. Sadly, for both of them, Merlin had to do it this way. Telling her about his magic first, there was no way Morgana would listen to the rest of what he had to say. 

“Look, what I’m trying to say is… I’m not asking you to forgive me, I can’t possibly ask that of you. But Arthur and Gwen… You didn’t even give them a chance and if you had, they would have chosen you.” 

“You’re wrong,” she grimaced, “They betrayed me, rejected me… They are disgusted by me and my kind just as Uther was.” 

“Oh, really? So, you told Arthur and Gwen about your magic before you tried to kill them? Showed them a way of magic that was good?” 

Silence. She didn’t want to believe it; she had convinced herself, time and time again, that they would have hated her anyway. She didn’t want to believe what Merlin was saying because if it were true, then it would mean that she was wrong and everything she had suffered through would be for nothing. She couldn’t have been wrong. Arthur had to be just like Uther, and Gwen had to be an obstacle between her and the throne. 

“But I have no right to say that since I didn’t show them a good way of using magic either,” Merlin said stoically and she scowled trying to figure out what the hell he meant by that – Dragonlord’s didn’t have magic. 

Merlin continued, “I admired you, Morgana, for being brave enough to stand up to a corrupt, filthy tyrant like Uther. I was a coward. The worst kind.” 

“What are you going on about?” She blurted out finally in confusion and anger. 

He looked in Morgana’s eyes, the longest he had in years, and sighed in defeat. They were at the point where words wouldn’t cut it anymore. His eyes turned gold and a gentle wind danced around them, blowing leaves and her messy hair locks behind. 

“You,” Merlin recognized the expression forming in her face, it wasn’t something he could ever forget, it was the same one she had when he had poisoned her, “You have magic –” She choked back. 

He continued, without giving her time to process it, “Take your hatred out on me if Uther wasn’t enough for you but don’t take it out on rest of your friends. They didn’t deserve any of this, you also wronged them, just as I have you,” he stood back up, “And you, Morgana Pendragon – you once told me that there wasn’t another path. There always was. We just both couldn’t see it.” 

He walked back to the fire, leaving Morgana in shock with way too many things to think about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will definitely continue/finish the fic as soon as I have time guys. Unfortunately, I'm in the middle of finals :(


End file.
